


The Passing Stranger

by Lynxrider



Series: Passing Stranger [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Edward, Blushing Edward, Boys Being Awkward, Bromance, Camping, Canon-Typical Violence, Collars, Drachma, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Injury, Kidnapping, Male Main Character, Mild Gore, Mind Control, Mistaken Identity, NOT EDWARD!, Protective Older Brothers, Scars, Stalking, Survival, them dirty bluecoats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-11 13:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11149704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynxrider/pseuds/Lynxrider
Summary: Edward gets an unintentional stalker. Then Edward gets captured by the people he's stalking. It goes about as well as you would expect.Which is to say, things didn't go according to plan. As usual.





	1. The Passing Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first installment for my Passing Stranger series.
> 
> This started off as me taking a break from a story I've been working on for a couple of years. Then I fell in love with this new concept, and it became something more. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

So there's this boy.  
  
Now, I don't consider myself a stalker by any means, nor would I even have noticed if it was anyone other than him, but there's this boy who walks across the street right outside of my apartment every day. And for some reason, I just can't stop thinking about him…  
  
The apartment we live in–'we' being my sister, mother and I–isn't very large. It's a two bed-one bath affair, located just outside the factory district in Central City. The place is cramped, to be sure, with the three of us, but there is one thing about it that I have always loved: it has a secret place.  
  
I discovered it when I was very young, probably about seven. We live on the top floor of an old complex, and on a rather exciting afternoon I discovered a trap door behind an old dresser that came with the place while I was hiding from my younger sister. It was covered in wallpaper, but I took my father's knife to the edges when my ma' wasn't looking and sliced through it. There's a small pathway inside that leads to a ladder, and then a rather spacious loft with a window overlooking the city. I fell in love that day, and it took my ma' a few days to even coax me out of my new little hidey-hole. She reckons that this old apartment used to be a hideout for refugees during the cultural reform, back when the military was ejecting those that did not agree with their ideals. But now it is just a home for a single mother and her kids that just so happens to have an amazing place for a young man to spend his time in when the stress and trials of living with two women get to him.  
  
That's where I am now. I smile fondly out at the city as I recall how ecstatic my ma' had been when I discovered the room. She seemed so happy to have extra space for us when she was paying rent for much less than we really had. Of course my sister was too, and as soon as I was old enough not to need ma' in the middle of the night, I was able to move out of sis's room and into my new loft. Thank heavens.  
  
After that I made it my own. Dozens of charcoal sketches of the city hang from the slanted ceiling of my little space, and an easel sits by the window. There isn't space for a bed, so I have a thick feather comforter I sleep on that I can fold up in the corner when I'm not using it. Luckily there was already a small dresser boot that I found in the space, so I didn't have to figure out how to get one through the crawlway. The floor is littered with charcoal sticks and paintbrushes, though I don't have any paint at the moment. Sometimes ma' can afford a small pot of ink from the newspaper printer she works for, but I mostly dabble in the coal sticks the man across the street can snag from his factory job. My friends often joke that I'm covered in the stuff so often that I might as well be a factory worker myself.  
  
I strain my eyes slightly as I stare out the small shuttered window, my hands moving carefully over the easel in my lap, trying to capture the details of the brick building across the narrow road. The freshly painted shutters across every window were in stark contrast to the wear of the red brick. This part of the city is quite old, not yet modernized since the invention of the automobile thirty years prior, so the facades of the buildings are much less modern than closer to the city’s center. I've been waking up for about a month now at the break of dawn to finish this drawing of the city, but I only have a small window of time before the shadows change too much to continue. It's been my fixation for a while, drawing at a specific time of the day. My sis thinks I'm nuts for waking up so early when school doesn't even start till ten, but if I hadn't, then I never would have seen _him._  
  
So there's this guy. He's really not all that remarkable at first glance, I suppose. He's about my age–fifteen, I would guess–and probably half a foot shorter. You wouldn't think he was so short by the way he walks, sort of an arrogant long stride, and I wouldn't have even been able to tell if he hadn't passed by another man just because of his attitude, which he seems to wear on his person like a physical trait. But what caught my attention wasn't his size. It wasn't even the strange bright red coat he wears or the way he likes to tie his long blonde hair back just like my father did before he died.  
  
No, what really got my attention was the look on his face. I don't think I've ever seen someone look at anything so intensely, and believe me, I watch a lot of people go by from my little vantage point. Usually you would expect someone who is going to work, or wherever it is he always seems to be going, to have a sort of bored expression as they ignore the repetitive scenery they've seen too many times in favor of their own thoughts.  
But not this guy. No, his gaze stares unwaveringly forward with this deep frown on his face, eyes flickering and taking in everything around him, almost as if he expects some creature of ill intent to pop out at any moment. Or maybe he finds his surroundings so fascinating that he has to absorb them as if every dawn sheds new light on a facet he hasn't seen. Considering the rather dingy state of this sector, I would think not. Whatever the case, I just thought it…odd.  
  
I didn't really think about it after the first time, but after I noticed him a few more mornings in a row, I began to wonder. Where is he always going in such a hurry? Does he go to some school that starts earlier than mine? Is he already working? Why does he always look so serious?  
A few days after that it was: what's with that red coat, anyway? He's got to have a lot of money to be able to afford anything with a red dye. Is he some kind of elite? He does walk towards a ritzier part of the city now that I think about it….  
  
Well anyway, you get my point. My life must be really boring or something to get fixated on some guy who happens to walk across the street from my apartment. But then again, I was up before even the rooster crows just to get the perfect shadows, so I digress. I brush my longish blonde hair out of my face, no doubt leaving another black streak in the pale locks, and set my coal down with a sigh. I examine the work with equally pale blue eyes and grin in satisfaction. Almost done. I yawn widely and stretch my arms. A bit more and I won't have to wake up so dang early anymore….maybe my next one will be at sunset…  
  
A flash of red in the corner of my vision catches my attention and I have to stop my head from whipping around to watch the stranger walk across the street once again. I roll my eyes at myself for my newest fixation, but can't help but turn and look anyway. Man, I need a hobby. Oh wait…  
  
And yes, there he is, walking across the street looking like he's sucking on a lemon while glaring at anything and everything. I run the palm of my hand across my forehead and sigh deeply. What the heck’s wrong with me? By the time I finish rolling my eyes at myself, he's already almost out of sight. I watch for a few more seconds as he rounds the corner in a dramatic flick of his red coat before standing. I brush my hands on my pants lightly, expelling a small cloud of black dust into the room, when something strange perks my interest once more. I double take and squint my eyes as I lean against the window till I can see my breath misting the glass, trying to catch the anomaly.  
  
My breath catches in my chest and I feel a little thrill of fear. There's….now I know I'm crazy, but there's a huge man wearing…is that a suit of armor? In the alley almost out of the reach of my vision and completely obscured from the street he stands in the early morning shadows. He's enormous, probably seven feet tall, and his immense chest is shielded by a large bodice of steel, his thick arms and legs plated with rounded panels adorned with wicked looking spikes. But it’s his helmet that causes my heart to stutter and my skin to crawl. From the depths of the slit revealing his eyes are two glowing orbs of red, as if what is contained within the archaic suit is not human.  
  
And they are staring unerringly after the boy.  
  
As I watch, the large man retreats back into the alley, his eyes never leaving the kid's retreating figure until he completely disappears. I'm not sure exactly what it is I think I'm seeing. If I hadn’t just been staring at that thing’s form for over a minute I would think that it was a figment of my imagination, and even as I stare at the spot where he disappeared, my mind is already trying to make logical excuses about what I saw. But there's one thing that's apparent: the boy is being followed. As I watch, the large man retreats back into the alley, his eyes never leaving the kid's retreating figure until he completely disappears.  
  
I pull back from the window and ruffle my hair in distress. Does he know? Is that why he always walks around as if waiting for someone to attack him? By now, the sun has risen fully over the horizon and people are beginning to walk the streets heading to work. There is no more sign of either the boy or the man in the suit, but my heart is still racing a mile a minute.  
  
"Someone's gotta…" I mumble. I turn abruptly and stumble over a charcoal stick with a curse. I scrabble to my dresser and pull out a pair of pants and a button down shirt and pull them on, not even bothering with a jacket and completely disregarding the black chalk staining my clothes. "Someone's gotta warn him!" I jump over my bed, which I haven't put away yet this morning, and practically fly down the old worn rungs of the ladder leading to my crawlway.  
A few shuffles and grunts of exertion later and I make it out of the half-sized doorway. Man, I really need to break out my father's carpentry tools and widen this space. I'm almost too broad shouldered to get through it anymore. I push open the door and jump through hastily, nearly bowling over someone in my wake. I pull back with a grunt as my ears ring from the familiar startled screech of my little sister.  
  
"Han! What the heck?" My younger sister, Annalise, stumbles back into the wall and pulls her waist length blond hair out of her face in agitation. I nearly sent her careening. She is a lot smaller than me, even though she's only a year younger. I seem to have inherited my father's large stature while she inherited ma's daintier one.  
  
"Sorry, Anna," I say as I pull her back upright hastily. She glares up at me with her dark brown eyes and looks me up and down.  
  
"Just where do you think you are going so early in the morning? It's a school day, so you better not be going out to hang out with those friends of yours. You know ma' hates it when you skip–Hey, I'm talking to you! Han!"  
  
"Sorry, Anna, gotta go! Tell ma' I'll be back in a jiffy!"  
  
"Han!"  
  
I spin around my smaller sister and race to the door, throw it open and swiftly make my way to the stairs. Taking them at twos and threes, I make it down to street level in record time. Before I burst through the entrance and race out onto the street, I pause with my hand hovering over the handle. For a moment, I just stand there. What…what am I doing? I don't even know this guy, and yet once I see that he might be in danger, I race off to warn him? But that large man in the armor…he looked like bad news. Real bad news. If I don't warn him, who will? I mean, it's not like the military police will do anything about it, I think distastefully. Decision made, I push the door open and stride out onto the sidewalk. I look left and right carefully in the early morning. There are a few people out on the narrow streets, but I pay them no attention, trying to spy the large man I saw earlier, trepidation tingling up my spine. Seeing him nowhere, I swiftly begin striding in the direction I always see that boy walking. My palms are sweating slightly, so I put them in my pockets and try to keep my eyes peeled for anything suspicious.  
  
Now, this is the tricky part. I don't even know where the kid is heading, so I'm just going to have to take a wild guess. I pull out my old copper pocket watch, a rather elaborate piece inherited from my father, and check the time. It has only been a few minutes since I saw him disappear, so I should be able to catch up pretty easily if I manage to choose the right direction. On a hunch, I take the common pedestrian route towards the market district, following the general flow of foot traffic. Feeling slightly anxious, I pick up my pace, lengthening my already naturally long stride. Within a few minutes, I'm rewarded by a glimpse of a bright red coat. The boy is stopped at a street corner, waiting for the automobile traffic to lighten so he could cross the road. Glancing around furtively, I slow my pace slightly now that I have him in sight. It wouldn't do to tip off the person following him that he's going to be warned. He might become more aggressive and try something… Quite suddenly, I feel like one of the heroes in my sister's adventure novels, chasing after the princess who's being stalked by a dastardly villain. My brow furrows. Am I overreacting? My footsteps slow even more as I begin to tail the boy. Now that I'm out in broad daylight, I feel a bit silly about the whole thing. Maybe I just imagined the man. I mean, I'm pretty tired, and I do tend to let my imagination get the better of me sometimes. Still, I walk.  
  
By now, we are getting closer to the center of the city, and more and more military personnel are starting to filter onto the street on their way to the compound. I begin to feel a bit edgy, and my hands clench in my pockets. See, in my family and in the area I live in, we have sort of a…distrust of the military. As a lower-class civilian, I, or rather, my mother who actually pays attention to the happenings of the government, am constantly living in fear of a military raid. Despite propaganda, there are many who see through the corruption of Central's powers that be. You…hear things in the poorer areas of the city. Dark things. Things about what happens when the city's strict taxes aren't paid on time, or when a business does or says something the government doesn't agree with. There are even rumors of the military kidnapping the poorer people off the street to do…unnatural experiments on them. It also doesn't help that the military police are a bunch of bullies, at least in my area. Probably the worst thing about that is that the Fuhrer must know about these happenings, and yet he does nothing. And yet still, those in power love him, even as those without fear him, and so he stays in power. I don’t really know much, just repeating the beliefs of my mother, but I do know that the military police are bullies. And I hate bullies.  
  
But it isn't just that. My father…he was killed by an officer in the military when I was just a kid. Got caught in the crossfire between some military police and a street gang. And just like that he was gone, leaving my ma' and sister and I on our own. There was no repercussions for the officer who shot him, nor did we even get an apology from her. No, just a stupid letter barely acknowledging our loss and deeply sowing distrust and disdain for the military in me forever.  
  
Now, call me paranoid but…no it isn't just me. That kid is being watched by some bluecoats. My eyes widen slightly in alarm as I begin to notice a few gazes on him that really don't have any business being there. They are trying to be discreet–a glance over a coffee cup or a passing sweep behind a paper–but I could see their eyes on him a mile away. I gulp harshly and put my head down, trying to look as unobtrusive as possible, an ingrained reaction from too many back alley beatings from those in uniform. That's getting a little harder to do as we wander into the nicer parts of town. My disheveled and worn clothes are beginning to stand out a little too much. If this kid is being watched by the military, he must be in big trouble. Could it be that they're going to arrest him? Is he going to be experimented on?  
The sun is getting higher in the sky, the clouds turning from orange to a light yellow, and I finally see my chance to talk to him. The blonde turns abruptly and leans against a wall at a small cafe. He pulls out a shiny pocket watch impatiently and glares at it, then lets out a wide yawn, scratching his head. He glances left and right before leaning back and pulling out a small journal, a little leather book that looks an awful lot like the sketchbook I like to carry, and begins to scribble in it. Resisting the urge to give a wide area sweep to see if he is being watched again, I glance glance casually left and right before crossing the street.  
  
Hm, how to do this without seeming completely nuts? As I approach I see a good excuse to stop near him. The cafe has a menu posted to the wall right by where he's standing. Leisurely I approach and examine the morning specials. Out of the corner of my eye I give him a once-over then glance away swiftly. He hasn't noticed me at all, his pale golden eyes, almost as pale as my blue ones, still glaring at the journal in his hands which I could now see is filled to the brim with scrawled notes. I'm shocked to realize that he's even shorter than I thought at first, standing solidly at my chin. But actually, his face seemed to indicate that he might be a bit older than me. He has one of those looks of someone who's been through a lot, kind of like the bitter veteran that lives two doors down from me. I shake my head slightly at myself. Now is not the time to be feeding one of my weird observation fixations. I need to warn him. Casually, I lean back against the wall a few feet away from him and pull out my own journal and a pencil I stole from the school. I begin absently sketching my surroundings as I struggle to think of a way to talk to him. My heart races a little. I hate talking to new people, but now is not the time for my awkwardness. He really needs to be warned. As I try to come up with something to say that doesn't sound completely insane, I glance over at him again and jump with a start. His pale golden eyes–no, not pale, but absolutely fiery–are fixed on me with that unwavering concentration I had admired before.  
  
His eyes narrow and I have this insane urge to step away. I resist, and he just seems to stare more intensely. "Um…" I mutter, not sure why he's glaring at me. Did he catch me? That would be mortifying.  
  
"What are you doing," he finally says, looking down at my journal sharply. I realize suddenly, when I hear his husky voice, that he's not as irritated as he appears and relax slightly. Maybe that intensity is just the way he looks all the time.  
  
"I'm drawing," I say, my own voice only a shade slighter than his. I feel somewhat of a thrill of unreality as I finally speak to the peculiar guy I've been noticing for over a month. I look down and start in surprise to see that I had been sketching a nearby woman without realizing it. I do that sometimes. It's just so second nature to sketch what I see that I didn't notice. I tip my journal toward his suddenly curious eyes and his intense gaze turned to my work. I had to hold back a blush. I'm not overly fond of when people see my drawings. I've often been told by my friends that I'm wasting my time with a useless talent, so I get a bit self conscious. After all, it is not really a popular pastime for a young man of my station who would usually forego school to work at my age. It was only through the determination of my mother that I get an education, insisting she could support us and that I would one day amount to something. She even indulges my hobby, never allowing me to give up my dreams. I blink, coming out of my musings to find that suddenly the journal in my hands is gone and the boy has pulled it close to his face to examine it.  
Suddenly I can't help the intense heat that floods my cheeks. It was just a sketch! He doesn't need to see that so close! "Hey! Come on, that one's not finished yet!" I try to snatch it back, but he simply sidesteps me effortlessly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. I fume.  
  
He begins to flip through my journal, much to my mortification. I cross my arms resignedly with a groan, trying my best to dispel the heat from my face as he peruses my drawings. That particular book holds only sketches of people, so I'm actually pretty glad he's not seeing the sketches of the city. I'm not that good at architecture yet…  
As he flips through, his expression goes from slightly teasing to blank, slipping back into that focussed expression from before. Before I can decide whether that is a good thing or not, he whistles low and mutters, "These are actually not bad."  
  
"Gee, thanks," I say sarcastically, making another futile swipe for my journal. He bats my hand away, another teasing grin appearing on his thin lips, and I wince slightly in pain. Geze, is he wearing gloves made out of steel? I shake my now bruised hand out with a grimace. What is up with this guy, just randomly taking people's journals like that? I have half a mind to snatch his away, which he holds limply under his arm, in revenge. I grin deviously and make another grab for my journal, thoroughly distracting him, and pull his journal out from under his arm. The kid doesn't even notice, still checking out my drawings.  
  
Curiously, I look down at the leather-bound book in my hands. It's worn, and its old hide is covered in ink flecks, as if he doesn't care a lick for aesthetics. Well, I'm not judging. Mine's covered in charcoal. I flip it open, and instantly become intrigued by his tiny scrawled script. I can barely make it out, but as I flip through a few more pages, I notice that it contains a series of circles that look awfully familiar. I bite my lip in concentration, trying to think of where I've seen these before, and then it comes to me. These are transmutation circles. This kid must be studying alchemy! My curiosity spikes through the roof. He has to be rich then. Only people with money, and a lot of it, get to study Alchemy, the most prevalent science of this day and age. My school barely brushes the surface of the science, just glazing over the history and giving the basic mechanics. Not that I pay much attention in school. I'm always too busy drawing to pay attention to a field I would never be allowed to truly study. The military keeps tight control of the circulation of knowledge in this city, and a nobody like me wouldn't get within a mile of the stuff.  
  
"Hey," the boy exclaims loudly, and snatches the journal from right under my nose. I laugh at his disgruntled expression.  
  
"My name is Han," I say, smiling widely. I never expected to actually meet this guy, but now that I have, I'm kind of having fun. His frown lessens a bit at my open expression.  
  
"Edward," he mutters, holding out my journal for me to take back, looking a bit contrite. My grin widens and I reach out to take it back, but I freeze. My expression drops, much to the bewilderment of my new acquaintance, as I suddenly remember why I am here in the first place. I pull my hand back and facepalm before dropping it and looking around the street wildly.  
  
Edward chuckles and points at me. "You know, you just made a black handprint on your face."  
  
Completely ignoring his comment, I look around, realizing there are a lot more people milling about now that the sun has risen. I immediately spot the two bluecoats that were watching him earlier, and older man with blonde hair and a younger one with thick rimmed glasses, and I begin to panic slightly. They're still there, probably waiting for this kid–Edward–to be alone.  
  
I turn back to Edward sharply, barely registering his lifted brow, and grasp his shoulder. I startle in surprise to find how hard it was. It felt like metal plating…Oh! He must have automail, one of those mechanical prosthetics that are so popular these days. It's not too unusual, although I have to wonder what horrific event this young man has gone through to have lost one of his limbs. The veteran down the hall has a metal leg, even if it probably needs replacing several years over. Shaking my head of my errant thoughts–focus!–I whisper to him tensely.  
  
"Look, I know this might sound completely crazy, but I actually followed you–"  
  
He jerks back in surprise, his eyes widening. "You what! What the hell for!?"  
  
I lift my hands rapidly in surrender. "No, I–I swear I'm not stalking you or anything, I just–just saw you a couple of times when you cross the road back on Seventh!" He lifts his brow in disbelief, his expression becoming guarded. I blush hotly. That sounded way less creepy in my head. I start to ramble, an unfortunate habit I have when I'm nervous. "I mean, I barely noticed–I mean, it's just because of the red coat, and then I wondered–but then I saw–" His eyebrow just keeps going higher and higher on his forehead and it looks like he's going to punch me in the face and make a run for it. I take a halted breath before he can get that far and then blurt, "You're being followed!"  
  
Suddenly, his expression closes with a sharp snap and he stands straighter. His golden eyes narrow and he becomes all business, much to my surprise. He pushes me back against the wall and thrusts my journal back in my hands. "Relax and act casual," he snaps, opening his own journal and glaring down at it. I open mine, feeling a bit like I have whiplash from his sudden change in demeanor, but I obediently do what he says. I blink in surprise. He handed me the wrong journal. He is looking down at my sketchbook, but doesn't seem to notice as he is staring at a blank page towards the back. I was about to mention something when his tense voice began asking rapid-fire questions.  
  
"Who? When? Where," he says tersely, using my sketchbook as a shield to glance around the street discreetly.  
  
"In the alley back on Seventh," I begin in a tense whisper looking down at the journal in my hands, suddenly feeling like one of those information brokers I see around sometimes, "there was a very large man wearing some strange clothes watching you walk by. Never took his eyes off you."  
  
The boy seems to tense even further, if that's possible, and suddenly I got the feeling that he knew someone was following him and was waiting for…something…to happen.  
  
"What precisely did he look like," he growls, giving me a guarded look through his blonde lashes.  
  
"I dunno…" I say thoughtfully, trying to make out some of the complex drawings in his journal. "His face was covered by a…helmet I guess. It was really strange, but he was wearing….you're not going to believe this, but he was wearing a suit of armor!"  
  
Edward's eyes widen, and then he stands straight abruptly, snapping the book closed and letting out a gusty sigh. He pinches the bridge of his nose, as if I had just said the most ludicrous thing in the world. "Of all the–that's what you saw," he mutters, his voice suddenly full of irritation.  
  
I huff, affronted. The kid doesn't believe me! Does he think I'm lying or something? I came all this way and he doesn't even listen?! "Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I'm telling the truth! You gotta believe me!"  
  
He's ignoring me at this point, glancing at his fancy pocket watch, and my face heats in anger. "And he's not the only one! You've got bluecoats on your tail as well," I insist.  
  
He looks up at this, but now I see that I've truly lost him. He's got this expression on his face like he's already dismissed me, like I'm nuts or something. "Look kid–" he says. Kid? Kid? This pipsqueak did not just call me kid! I see red. "I get what you are trying to do but–" He's talking in this condescending voice that adults always like to pull on me when they think they're smarter. I cross my arms in agitation.  
  
"NO!" I say loudly. "You're being followed and I'm going to prove it!" I grab his hand so he doesn't try to escape, ignoring his protest, and glare out around the street, trying to spot the bluecoats I saw earlier. They're gone. I frown deeply in annoyance. Of course they're gone the second I need them! I turn towards Edward again to insist further, when I freeze in alarm. There, walking towards us, was the demon in the suit of armor. My mouth opens in shock as I realize that he was walking openly on the street with hardly a reaction from the passersby. What the heck? I grip Edward's prosthetic arm tightly as my heart begins racing. Catching the scared look on my face, Edward follows my gaze and spots the man coming towards us as well.  
  
He rolls his eyes. "Look–Han, was it?—that's not–"  
  
But I'm no longer listening. My heart is pounding in my chest as the menacing man gets closer and closer. How is no one panicking about this monster casually walking down the street? He turns his glowing red eyes in our direction and my adrenaline spikes horrifically. He's spotted us!  
  
I turn around and run into the alley beside us, pulling a protesting and surprisingly heavy Edward along behind me. But I still outweigh him quite a bit and he has little choice but to follow or fall flat on his face.  
  
"Han! What the hell, let go of me," He shouts, but I ignore him.  
  
"You've got to be kidding me! Did you see that guy?" I panic, dragging him along forcefully. Man, this was not how I thought I would be spending my morning! "He was stalking you!"  
  
Suddenly, Edward yanks his hand from my grip and spins me around. I'm vibrating on my feet at this point, breaths coming in short gasps, and I alternately glare at the stubborn blonde while furtively glancing towards the street. I had drug us quite far into the alleyway, still somewhat dark in the early morning. I glance left and right and spy a couple of dumpsters that might be good to hide in.  
  
"Han!" Ed shouts in my face, gripping my shoulders tightly. "I'm not being stalked! That's–"  
  
"Ouch," I exclaim, jerking away from his grip in shock. I snap a hand to my neck as I feel a sharp sting of pain. There's something stuck….I pull it out and look down at it in confusion. I've never seen anything like it. A small red cylindrical object sits on my palm. It’s adorned with feathers on one end, and from the other protrudes a wicked looking needle. A small bead of my blood drips onto my skin. Ed snatches the object from my hand, and his eyes go comically wide.  
  
"What the–" Before he can utter anything more, a wave of dizziness hits me like a battering ram and I lurch backwards, barely catching myself from falling. I feel suddenly feverish, and I bring my palm to cover my drunkenly spinning vision.  
  
"Um, Edward, I think I–"  
  
"Han, look out!" I blearily open my eyes to regard my companion, and he thrusts his hand out as if to catch me, a look of abject horror on his face. I don't even have a moment to try to puzzle out why he looks so afraid before I find myself tight against something curiously hard and warm. There's shouting now, and I belatedly realize that I'm finding it a bit hard to breathe. I force my eyes open again–when exactly did I close them?–and grip at the thing cruelly cutting off my air supply. I dig futily into the obstruction, but a warning squeeze causes me to fall limp.  
  
A deep and curiously accented voice rumbles in my ear, vibrating what I now know is a rather large man's chest behind me. "Don't you dare move, kid, or I break his neck!"  
  
"DON'T call me kid, bastard," Edward growls from somewhere in front of me.  
  
"Tie 'im up," another voice shouts from further away.  
  
"Which one's the target," the man behind me exclaims, "they both look the same!"  
  
"Doesn't matter…don't have time…!"  
  
By now I'm fading fast, and vaguely I feel like I'm being dragged, my heels scraping the ground. The light is fading, but I'm not sure if it's my failing vision or that I'm being dragged somewhere dark. Probably both…  
I can hear loud muffled cursing somewhere behind me, and I recognize Edward's voice. I feel a pang of regret. I had tried to warn him that someone was after him, but just ended up making it easier for them. I should have tried harder to make him believe me…  
  
Before everything goes black, I have one final thought. I should have stayed in bed….Why couldn't I ignore it? Why can I _never_ ignore it? Everything goes dark.

  



	2. Mistake

I must confess, despite my artistic nature, I am not inclined towards fantastic dreams, never have been. Occasionally I will have the fever induced nightmare, but to be honest, most of the time I dream boring, realistic dreams about…I dunno, school or walking the streets. If I even dream at all.   
  
Not this time. Bright colors and frightening images plague my unsettled mind. I dream of passing strangers and glowing watchful eyes and an overwhelming abundance of the colors red and blue. A blonde woman in uniform holds a gun over me, a manic grin on her fair face. A pair of gold eyes stare intensely at me, gaze burning hot. I see my hands drawing, but for some reason the strokes never show, simply sliding over a blank page. Then the page catches on fire. The fire spreads all around me, consuming a once comfortable and safe loft sanctuary, decimating every drawing, fond memory and keepsake. I hear a scream, and I try to move, to see, but I can't tell if it's coming from me or from someone else–  
  
I wake with a startled gasp. My pale eyes snap open and instantly a crushing claustrophobia grips me as I realize that I can't move. At all. Something restricts my entire body, and by the dim light and moist, stuffy air I'm terrified to find myself in a very small space. I'm lying on my side, and I can't help but notice several severe aches in my body. Nausea pools at my gut as if I had way too much to drink the night before and my shoulder and neck burn as if I haven't moved for ages.  
  
The light is barely enough to see by, only a small strip of bright sliver a foot in front of my face. Trying to reach for it only causes me to grunt in pain, and I look down at my hands with eyes straining.  
  
There is some kind of…burlap encasing my hands tightly. I move my fingers experimentally and find that they are woven together as if in prayer. Ropes on my wrist connect to a cord around my neck which burns sharply whenever I move, indicating that it might have been there for a long while.  
  
For a moment, I am entirely unable to control the natural reactions of my body to being in an unknown enclosed space with no escape. I panic, straining against the bonds encasing my entire person. It's no use of course, but try telling yourself that when you wake up completely disoriented with no idea of where you are. My head spins as I begin to hyperventilate. What in Amestris–where am I? What in the hell is going on! My vision lurches drunkenly, but I can't seem to force myself to remember how on earth I managed to get in such a mess.  
  
The small space tilts exceedingly and I am eventually forced to calm down or else risk passing out. Just as my limbs begin to tingle from lack of oxygen a noise outside of my unexpected prison causes my breath to hitch.  
  
There seems to be some kind of tussle outside of my confines and I manage to pick up the angry tones of a few men. I hold my breath, flashes of all the unpleasant things that could be done to me while bound and helpless passing through my mind, but only a few moments later the voices recede, leaving the sound of my own racing heartbeat as my only company. I loose a low, long groan and force myself to relax. It's alright. Breathe. No one has killed you yet, Han.  
  
I pull in a slow lungful of the stale air once, then twice, willing my heart rate to slow. Panicking doesn't help. It _never_ helps. I just need to figure out why I'm here and maybe–  
  
the floor jerks beneath me and the unmistakable sound of an engine roaring to life rattles my bones before settling into a steady hum. I gulp. I'm not just in some trunk or crate or something, I'm in an _automobile_. I am in deep and utter _shit_. The machine lurches, sending me sliding backwards along what I now realize is a metal boot, to send my forehead crashing into the hard surface in front of me. I grunt loudly, feeling as if a bruise had already formed in that spot, proving that I had indeed been there longer than just a few hours. I immediately begin bouncing around as it feels like we are passing over some rocky terrain, but it smooths out a moment later after one last bruising jerk.  
  
Something warm, hard and unmistakably human crashes into my back as the machine settles, startling me badly. I let out a yelp, but quickly stifle it in case someone could hear me in the main compartment. A few tense moments pass, but the automobile does not stop, nor do I hear any alarmed voices. Letting out a small sigh of relief, I furrow my brow and shift as much as I am able, feeling another body flush against mine. I bite my lip, relieved at least that the other person feels alive–I could feel soft puffs of breath against my neck–but who is it?  
  
My head throbs in unison with the bump on my forehead as I struggle to remember. I am in an insane amount of discomfort, which doesn't help. Sweat covers my body in a sticky film and the air is stifling with two people crammed in a boot. It also doesn't help that shorty behind me puts off more heat than a furnace….wait. That's right; the stranger who passes my apartment every day. There were people following him….I wanted to warn him…Edmund? Frederick?  
  
…Edward! That was it. I frown. That's right…I tried to warn him, he didn't believe me, and then he got caught anyway. And _so did I_.  
  
Before I could get properly angry about the whole thing, Edward lets out a long growling moan and seems to curl into himself, butting his forehead rather uncomfortably into my spine.  
  
"Hey, watch it," I grunt, my already battered body protesting the abuse.  
  
"Whaaauuuugh….Al, what's going on? I feel sick," His breath hitches and he curls into himself more. A spike of alarm goes through me and I try to get as far away from him as I can in the tight space. Unfortunately, that's not possible with him plastered against my back.  
  
"Whoa buddy, don't you dare throw up on me!" He seems to be going through the same sickness I experienced when first waking. Hopefully he hasn't had much to eat, or else this little joy ride is going to be severely more unpleasant.  
  
"What? Who are–" Edward goes rigid behind me. I can feel him moving experimentally, his movements becoming jerky and panicked. Before he can get too excited–and subsequently give me a few more bruises–I try to calm him.  
  
"Edward, calm down. It's no use, they have us tied pretty good."  
  
He stills behind me. "They?" His husky voice still sounds vaguely slurred, and I wonder if he's having trouble with his memory just as I did. ** **  
****"Yeah, you know, the people who kidnapped us. The ones I was trying to warn you about but you wouldn't listen," I said with more than a little venom.  
  
A pause, and then I hear probably one of the most irritated and long-suffering groans I've ever had the pleasure of being thrown in my direction. Or, well, the back of my neck. "Han," he says, almost as though through gritted teeth.  
  
"The one and only." I snap, not liking his tone one bit.  
  
"Right, the nosy idiot with the sketchbook."  
  
"Who are you calling an idiot you bull-headed shrimp! I tried to–" I was cut off by a startlingly loud yell directly in my ear, sending an absolutely terrifying surge of adrenaline through my already charged blood.  
  
"WHAT! WHO ARE YOU CALLING–ugh!" Thinking swiftly, I rear my head back and butt him in the face, silencing his angry shout.  
  
"Are you nuts!" I whisper tensely over his low curses. "If you haven't noticed, we are being held captive in the boot of a moving motorcar. I don't know about you, but I want to remain alive for a little while longer!" I shake out my head, now throbbing from both sides, and mumble, "If you had just listened, none of this would have happened."  
  
"You're an idiot, you know that," he growls, and I bristle. "I was trying to tell you! Those guys that were following me were my protection!"  
  
I choke, an insult on the tip of my tongue, and absorb what he just said. "Your protection…?"  
  
"That's right. I've been working for weeks trying to lure these guys by walking alone to work. The officers following me were there as backup. It would have worked perfectly fine, but someone had to be a hero."  
  
I purse my lips tightly and narrow my eyes. So this was my fault…? Then something he said registered in my mind. "Wait, you're a bluecoat?" I ask, voice tense.  
  
"My coat is red, you color blind moron."  
  
"You know what I mean, Edward," I snap.  
  
There is a somewhat lengthy pause, and I guess he's trying to gauge my mood. "Yeah, I'm with the military, what of it? You got a problem with that?"  
Yes, I think acidly, I do. I can't believe I was trying to help a bluecoat of all people! Father must be rolling in his grave. But now was not the time for old grudges, so instead of answering, I change the subject.  
  
"So who are these guys? Why are you acting as bait?"  
  
"No idea. That's what I've been trying to find out. The last few months, the military has been following a case involving missing alchemists. Since state alchemists are easiest to identify, they have been disappearing the most frequently. Another few alchemists and I have been walking the city to draw them out." As he explains, I can feel him fiddling behind me, messing with something. The next words out of his mouth are muffled. "I've been waking up damn early to do it too," he grumbles.  
  
Hm. So he really was waiting for someone to pop out at him. He jerks behind me and I hear the distinct sound of tearing fabric. "What, no comment about me being a dog of the military?"  
  
"Nah," I say absently, deep in thought. "It's really the military police I have problems with. I can't really say I pay much attention to the sects of the military who are not in my face." He snorts. "So if they are after state alchemists, then why in the hell did they decide to kidnap me as well?"  
  
"Funny thing," Edward says distractedly. He's wriggling about now, clearly having found a way out of his bonds. I wonder briefly if he has ever had to do this before. "Somehow we are similar enough that these hired thugs couldn't tell you from their actual target."  
  
"What! We look completely different!" I frown, a bit miffed. Sure, he kinda-sorta resembles my father. A little. But sheesh, he's the size of my sister and dresses three times flashier. I'm practically invisible compared to him.  
  
"Well, not completely. We both have blonde hair, light eyes and we both carry pocket watches. Also, I somehow managed to switch our journals, and since they can't let me do alchemy to prove myself–there, got it," his arms jerk once, then they are free. Instantly, he begins to work on mine, looping his arms around my chest and tugging at my restraints. "Besides that, these bozos are Xingese, so I don't think they can tell Amestrians apart."  
  
I chuckle in amusement, but have to grunt in protest a second later as he gives a particularly vicious jerk to the noose around my neck. I wince as I feel a small trickle of blood from the abused skin. Edward hisses in sympathy. "Sorry about that. Hey, could you turn over? I can't get to knot from here."  
  
I test my restraints, feeling how much give I have. "I think so…You're going to have to move back, though." He gives an affirmative sound and suddenly I have about half a foot more space. A few moments of flailing elbows and low curses later, and I'm facing my unfortunate new acquaintance. I squint, trying to make out his face by the dim light, but I can barely see anything but a small glint in his eyes and a vague outline. Apparently he doesn't need his eyes to unbind me, though, because a few tugs later my hands are free. "Thanks, Eddie," I say, moving immediately to unbind the rest of me.  
  
A disgruntled breath puffs in my face, and I wrinkle my nose. "Edd–?"  
  
"So what's the plan," I interrupt. "I've only been in this situation once, but these guys seem to be a bit more organized than your average delinquents. Plus, we are in a moving vehicle going who knows where."  
  
Edward chuckles. "I have my hands. That's all I'm going to need."  
  
Right. Alchemist. "But…didn't you say that these guys were kidnapping alchemists? Surely they have a defense against them. Also, I think they've had us drugged for at least a day, maybe more."  
  
"Yeah…only one way to find out where we are though. You ready?"  
  
For what, I think. I've never seen an alchemist in action. The city hoards them like precious gems, and in a town as big as Central, the most you ever see of an alchemist is the destruction they leave behind. I shake my head. Guess I'll just have to trust him. Us average Joes were never meant to get involved in stuff like this. Briefly I have a thought that I should probably not try to save anyone else in the near future, but dismiss it a second later for the now. "Hey... I'm sorry I messed up your plan and got you kidnapped and...you know." I search the dark, looking for his face. There is a flash of a white grin and then he bumps the back of his fist on my chest.  
  
"Don't worry about it, Han. But when we get out of this, you so owe me one."  
  
I chuckle, returning his grin. "Yeah, you got it, Eddie. You know, you're alright for a bluecoat."  
  
"Hah! And you're alright for a hack artist!" My jaw drops, but he's already in motion. He claps his hands together with a blinding white flash and thrusts them behind me towards the entrance of our compartment. I jump forward into his chest with a startled shout as the metal behind me tears open with a squealing report. Sunlight and fresh air rushes in in a flash of cold wind, whipping about our clothes and hair and flinging our bonds out onto the street. Edward grabs my shoulder and uses it as leverage to kick the lid of the boot open, slamming it so forcefully that it breaks from its hinges and crashes into the back windshield, shattering it, before breaking off completely and bouncing down the road behind us. The tires squeal as the vehicle swerves dramatically as we clearly startle the driver. I have to cling to the side desperately when we are nearly thrown from the squealing death trap.  
  
The motorcar begins to brake and slow as the driver gets some semblance of control and the others in the cabin begin shouting loudly. I flip over onto my stomach, not quite as brave as Edward who is crouched on his hands and knees, and take in our situation in an instant. We are driving along a paved country lane somewhere in the mountains. There is a steep, dizzying drop to our left down a rocky slope, and a wall closing us off on our right. Frigid air stings my eyes and my flying hair blocks my vision slightly. The air is very humid and cold, and the road is wet, as if it just rained. Edward punches me in the shoulder and shouts at me. I can barely hear him over the screeching tires, but he points towards the steep drop and gestures for me to jump. My eyes widen and I'm about to protest–LOUDLY–when ear shattering bang behind us makes my decision for me. With a terrified scream I fling myself from the vehicle, Edward right behind me.  
  
My stomach lurches upward, and I would have continued to scream but for the fact that I suddenly had a lot less room in my chest for my lungs. All I can comprehend over the insane adrenaline rush of falling is that in a few more seconds I would be skewered by the pines below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. See you next time!


	3. Battle

I only fall for a second, the blink of an eye, but to me it feels like an eternity.

Wind roars, tires screech against unforgiving pavement, and I can hear screaming but I'm not sure if it comes from my own mind or from Edward who falls beside me. Though the wind rips at my skin and clothes and hair, there is no air for my lungs, which seem to be shriveled from the terror in my chest. The rock face of the cliff we jumped from rushes past me so terribly fast, yet agonizingly slow as I am forced to watch the tall, spike like pines closing in to impale us. Time seems to stop completely as my mind races with what could very well be my last thoughts.

Why–WHY–did I just jump out of the car?! Oh, right, they were _shooting_ at me. What the hell happened to keeping us alive? I thought Edward was some valuable thing they had to keep intact! Or maybe they would rather see us dead than lose us. Whatever the case, I'M FALLING AND I'M GOING TO DIE OH GOD–

I close my eyes and curl into myself desperately, though I know it's futile, and wait for the end. Just as I think I'm going to hit something hard and sharp I see a flash of white light through my closed lids and hear a loud squealing crackle, as if a power line was cut–

My fall ends abruptly when I slam into something bone jarringly hard way sooner than I could have reached the ground. I scream out in pain and surprise as I land on my shoulder, which dislocates with a loud crack. My eyes snap open, only to close immediately as a cloud of dust rises around me. A moment later the damp mountain wind blows the dust away, and I look around with eyes watering in pain. I gasp.

I'm lying in a crater of sand on some kind of platform only about fifteen feet down from the street. A jut of rock seems to have protruded at just the right time to catch me, and the softer sand broke what could have been a fatal fall over unforgiving rock. I look wildly around me for Edward and spot him immediately to my left, miraculously standing on his feet in his own crater of soft earth. He does not spare me a glance as he glares angrily at the street above us, seeming to effortlessly brush off the fall.

Through the roaring in my ears and the shock I manage to register angry shouting above us. I struggle to a sitting position, adrenaline barely holding back the pain in my arm, and try to regain my breath. I only manage to catch a glimpse of a black haired man and a gleam of metal before Edward claps his hands together with a curse. Lightning seems to jump from his hands and he snaps them to the sheer wall in front of us. As if the very rock turns to water to bend to my extraordinary companion's will, the cliff face molds itself into a protective barrier between us and our captors. And just in the nick of time. Not a moment later, gunfire slams into the rock shield, the sound exploding off the mountains like thunder.

I throw my arm over my head, as if it added some kind of extra protection, but the wall does not break. I can only wait in heart shattering terror as the gunfire continues in a deafening roar, only a stone wall between me and certain death. Abruptly the gunfire stops, and after my ears stop ringing painfully I can hear the men continue to shout angrily above us. For a few seconds the only thing I can do is curl into myself and gasp for air, jaw clenched brutally. My body shudders under the force of the fear flooding my system and my muscles clench spasmodically, the feeling so far beyond anything I have ever experienced before.

A hand grabs my shoulder and I flinch in surprise. Edward crouches down beside me, concerned, though his attention wavers between my hunched form and our enemies.

"Han! Are you alright? Did you break your arm?"

Suddenly I realize that I'm curled around my injured arm like a defensive animal, though I could barely feel the pain at the moment. I shake my head no and force my limbs to uncurl.

"No," I gasp through gritted teeth, still not quite able to breathe, "not broken…dislocated."

He nods grimly. "I can reset it for you, but we don't have a lot of time. That wall won't hold them for long."

I take a deep breath, my throbbing shoulder becoming more painful by the second. He’s right. We need to take care of this before they get to us. "Do it." I growl.

Before I can have any second thoughts, Edward pulls his coat around and rips a piece off the bottom. He holds the cloth to my mouth and I open my straining jaw obediently, wedging the cloth between my teeth.

I glare forward at nothing in particular, mind hazed, and feel my companion grabbing my damaged arm. "Relax," he says, surprisingly gently. "One, two–" My whole body seizes as the arm snaps back into place with a jarring jerk. I howl through the gag at the agonizing sensation, but calm a few moments later when the pain becomes drastically less incapacitating than it was before.

I open my eyes to find Edward staring at me intently, hand still clenching my good shoulder to steady me. I spit out the gag and cough once, then nod in thanks, mouth set in a grim line.

His lips quirk up slightly, but before he can say anything, he’s interrupted.

"Fullmetal!" A heavily accented, taunting shout echoes off the mountain, and I recognize the voice of the man who grabbed me in the alley. "Thank you for showing us which one of you is our true target! Now we can get rid of the dead weight! Come out now and we might just let him live!" Cruel laughter follows this statement, revealing at least two or three other men we would have to deal with. I can feel Edward practically vibrating with anger beside me, glaring up at the rock face, and I place a calming hand on the metal fist painfully clutching my shoulder.

He glances back down at me grimly and I shake my head with a smirk. "Don't worry, Eddie, I won't die that easily."

"Can you fight?"

I snort. "Not even a little bit." This is no schoolyard brawl, or even an encounter with the local thugs. I don't stand a chance. I grin widely, fighting back my fear. A bead of sweat falls down the back of my neck for the effort, but I'm rewarded with a slightly breathless chuckle.

His hand clenches my shoulder one more time, this time reassuringly, and then he lets go, getting to his feet. Another flash of alchemy later he pulls a blade from his metal arm, the point tearing through the fabric of his glove. The blonde looks at me consideringly before creating a blade for me as well from the stone beneath us. "This is going to be rough. I'm going to propel us up there after I disrupt their gunfire, then I want you to find cover and stay down." He hands me the weapon, its weight unfamiliar and clumsy in my hand, and I nod in understanding.

"I'm waiting, Fullmetal," the man shouts, "this is your last warning!"

Edward growls in the back of his throat. "Hold onto me!" I grab him with my good arm right as he slams his hands into the rock face. A deafening boom shakes the earth before the rock twenty feet in all directions from us seems to break apart and crumble violently. I hold on desperately to Edward as we are suddenly airborne once more, but this time it was only for a brief second before another platform appears in a flash of light, this one propelling us upward.

We land roughly on our feet when we reach street level. The men had swiftly moved back from the crumbling edge of the cliff in alarm, giving us enough space to maneuver. There are four of them like I thought, all of Xingese origin with black hair and slanted eyes, and all of them hold guns of varying sizes in their hands. They won't be stunned for long. As soon as I have my feet underneath me, I dive away from Edward, careful not to impale myself on my unfamiliar weapon, and look for cover. Gunfire and the now familiar sound of alchemy crackles off the canyon not a second later, but I just put my head down and run faster, heading for a jut of rock just up the slope from the crashed car. A bullet crashes into ground beside me and I gasp in alarm, but manage to dive behind the rock before I get hurt.  
I stand against the stone for a second, struggling for breath in the din around me, but it seems like Edward has the thugs distracted enough that no one pays me any mind. As soon as I'm able to move again, I peek around the corner and take in the scene.

It's complete pandemonium. Edward has erected another stone barrier from the street, the once solid material moving like water to bend to his will. Solid spikes pull from the clay-like mass and propel themselves at our would be captors, causing them to scatter and fire at him haphazardly.

"You idiots," the man who had yelled at us earlier screamed. I could see now that he was quite large for an Easterner. He had a wide jaw and muscled build, standing a head above the other men. "I told you not to kill him–agh!" One of Edward's spikes glanced off his shoulder, the boy not quite able to aim while behind the stone face, but cutting him off nonetheless. The other men had now stopped shooting, seeming to regain their somewhat questionable senses. Instead, they spread out up the slope like I had, looking for cover.

The man roared loudly. "You'll pay for that, kid!" He turns and runs back towards the car and Edward gives a taunting laugh, stepping out from behind his barrier.

"What's the matter, old man! Running away? Oh, shi–" Edward dives back into a back hand spring, then a backward roll as chains spring from the vehicle in a flash of crimson light, curling and tumbling about themselves in pursuit as if sentient. I curse. He’s an alchemist as well!

As I am distracted by the staggering display of power in front of me, I am completely blindsided when a hand grabs onto my wounded shoulder viciously and spins me around.

“AGH!” I choke on an agonized scream as white spots block out my vision at the sudden influx of pain. I instinctively sling my weapon around in a wide arch as I turn, eyes clenched tightly shut, and gasp in relief when the pressure on my wound is immediately released. My body slumps back against the rock, breathing deeply to try and force the dizziness away, unconsciousness threatening to blacken my vision. A gurgling shout and a clatter forces my eyes back open and the air catches in my throat in horror. I drop the knife from suddenly numb fingers as I take in the damage I've done.

A deep gash across the chest and collarbone of the black haired man in front of me wells with crimson, stark against his pure white shirt. He staggers back, dropping his gun at my feet in a muted clatter and stares at me with wide black eyes, frozen, before toppling over like a marionette cut from its strings. He curls around his injury with a moan. With an almost inaudible whimper I stumble back and away from him, throwing myself as far as I can to escape this new horrible reality.

"Han, look out!"

Edward's warning captures my attention just in time for me to see writhing, whiplike tendrils advancing on me lightning fast, exposed as I am back out on the street. With a startled shout I jerk backwards, but I'm not fast enough. Snake-like chains slam harshly into my person then wrap around me tightly, throwing me bodily to the ground. Though panic surges within me to give me strength, there is no give in my sudden confines, no way out.

"YOU BASTARD!"

Another explosion that I can't see goes off behind us, and the entire mountainside seems to shake down to its foundations. I cringe as rocks and debris fly over me, covering me in stinging cuts, but am entirely unable to move, bound head to toe. I struggle fiercely, but no matter how I twist and turn, the chains only get tighter until I can scarcely breathe.

I hear a clatter of gunfire and a surprised howl, and then suddenly the chains are loose. I struggle to my feet desperately, kicking them away. Edward is standing over the other alchemist, who is either unconscious or dead, by the car. The young blond’s shoulders are heaving, deeply winded.

An ominous rumble comes from the slope above us and Edward and I are alarmed to see the ground, damp from the recent rain and disturbed by the battle below, start to slide down towards us.

I squeak, my voice cracking. "What else!?"

As I freeze, Edward runs towards me and grabs me by the front of my shirt, jerking me harshly forward. "What are you doing? Move!"

He pulls me into a dead run up the street and then lets me go as I begin to run on my own. Mud and rocks slide down from as far as one hundred feet above and I can't help but watch in horror as it comes straight for us. Edward is leading me uphill on the street towards where the bulk of it is coming down, but if we can just beat it before it hits–!

Edward puts on another burst of speed and I struggle to keep up, heart racing and lungs screaming. I drag my eyes away from our doom and put my head down, running faster than I've ever gone in my life, debri and shaking earth attempting to dislodge me at every step.

With a final surge we break through, and air and debris rush behind us, sending pins and needles up our spines. Edward and I slow, turn around and watch in horror as the mountain consumes the road and our captors along with it.

The ground settles and silence covers the area almost surreally after all of the violence. The only thing I can hear are my and Edward's gasps as we stand and watch the last of the earth’s upheaval come to a stop. There is no longer a trace of the road down the mountain, nor any sign that a struggle had taken place. We are alone.

Suddenly, my legs can no longer support my weight and I collapse onto the wet ground with a gasp, moisture and cold biting through my filthy clothes. Edward soon follows, sitting down with a thump beside me, looking just as awful as I feel. "That…wasn't how I expected that to go…" His voice is no more than a rasp, exhausted.

"No…kidding…" I say between panicked breaths.

"Well, we made it out, didn't we?" he says, almost defensive. I just stare. His face crumples in concern. "Hey, are you okay?"

I nod yes, then shake my head no in some kind of weird jerking motion. His eyebrows furrow and he's about to say something…and then I turn around and throw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, that was fun. Han is clearly in over his head. I hope that didn't seem too fantastical for an FMA battle. I don't think so, anyway. Hope you enjoyed!


	4. A Little Out of Place

I turn around and throw up.

Or at least I try to. After who knows how long of not eating–I hadn't eaten before I chased after Edward, and then who knows how long we were drugged–all I can do is dry heave as I try to work through what just happened. I have never experienced anything so intense in my life. My shoulder throbs hotly, shooting pain down my back in spiking waves. Cuts cover my skin from flying debris, bleeding sluggishly, and my body is completely wrung out of energy from both lack of nourishment and running about like a madman. Oh, and I think I'm going into shock. Am I supposed to feel my fingers? I think I'm supposed to feel those…

"Whoa, Han, calm down, you're having a panic attack!" I can feel Edward hovering just behind me, his hands just above my back as if to comfort but not knowing how. I wave my arm behind me blindly, trying to get him out of my personal space.

"No…shit…" I gasp, trying to get ahold of myself. I turn around and face him, vision swimming. I point at him, then point at the landslide, making unintelligible noises. Edward's got this look on his face, hands lifted in surrender, as if I'm being completely nuts. Well, I'm not nuts! _That_ was nuts! Godlike powers being flung about casually, vicious men trying to shoot us, _dislocating my drawing arm–_

But what’s really bothering me is–what I really can’t comprehend–"We killed them! They're _dead_ and we killed them! You–I mean– _I_ –"

"Han!" Edward grabs my shoulders roughly, the pain of the movement effectively jerking me out of my panic. "We didn't kill them. They brought it on themselves." I shake my head in denial, because how could this kind of thing ever be justified?

...But something in his expression stops me; a kind of grimness borne of one who has seen hell and back. Again, he looks like an old veteran, like someone who has seen and been through way too much in his life, though he couldn't be that much older than myself. He's regarding the landslide grimly, and I can see despite his words that it truly does bother him. Deeply. "We didn't. You can't blame yourself for the death of every thug that tries to kill you. I would have gone insane long ago." There’s something in his voice then, and I believe him. My heart calms slowly and my breath evens enough for me to give him a small nod. He frowns and averts his eyes, and I have to wonder again just how long he's been involved in such a dangerous occupation. He’s just a boy, really, and yet it seems as though he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. "It's not your fault. They tried to kill you. You were just defending yourself."

He's right, of course. They _were_ trying to kill us. We didn't have a choice, it was either them or us. Still, the man I had cut brutally– _black eyes open wide, confused and shocked as if wondering how it had come to this_ – that will haunt me for a long, long time.

Suddenly, Edward loses his serious composure and he backs up, seeming to realize just how far into my personal space he actually is. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. "So, um, are you okay now?"

I smirk a bit tremulously, and shrug. "You know, for a little guy, you really seem to pack a punch," I joke, trying to lighten the mood as much for my own sake as my new acquaintance's. It doesn’t get quite the reaction I’m going for. Instead of laughing Edward's face goes red with rage and I get a punch over the head for my efforts.

"DON'T CALL ME SMALL, YOU JERK!"

"Oooww…" I groan, clutching at my head. At least he used his flesh hand, or I would probably be out cold. "You suck at this comforting thing, you know…" I have no idea why he is so self conscious about his height, what with all of his power and decent looks, but meh, nobody's perfect. I would just have to avoid teasing him about it if I wanted to keep my head–and my eardrums–intact. He stands up with a huff and crosses his arms, glaring balefully out over the forest below.

A devious smile takes over my features before I hide it, and maybe I’m just giddy to still be alive but a sudden urge to be mischievous comes over me. I open my blue eyes wide until they glisten and stare at him, channeling a hurt puppy to the best of my ability, and rub at where he struck me. It’s a look that I had perfected to get my ma' to do what I want, when I was just a child. While not exactly appropriate for my age anymore, I find it to be effective in situations like these, when we all need a good laugh after too much hurt, and it has served me well over the uncertain years of my youth. He glances at me once, shock and amusement flickering over his expression so quickly I almost miss it. Then he scowls playfully, trying to hold onto his resolve, but I can see the small smirk he's holding back. I widen my eyes and blink rapidly, something I learned from my sister, and he cracks, letting out a small sigh that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle. He holds out a hand to help me up. I grin, taking his offered hand. Well, it’s not quite a laugh, but I’ll take it.

I waver for a second, slight vertigo plaguing me, but regain my feet a second later. I hold my stomach as it gives a rather angry rumble. Deeming it not important for the moment, I ask, "Where are we?"

Edward puts his hands on his hips and turns slowly, taking in the scenery. "I'm…not sure. This mountain range…it's not green enough to be near any cities in the east and not dry enough to be in the south…"

I shiver. "It's certainly cold enough that they might be taking us north." I pull my clothes about me, the damp cold starting to be a bother.

"Maybe, but they were probably not taking us straight north. Automobiles can't take the cold very well, and the elevation spikes so rapidly that anything but the main road to North City is pretty much impassible unless you have a horse. Somehow, I don't think they were going to lug us around on pack animals…"

"So they were taking us…Northwest? But why?"

Edward's mouth set in a grim line. "I have a couple of theories, but it's too soon to draw any conclusions yet."

"Hm…" I'm sure I couldn't come up with any theories. It doesn't make any sense to me. Those guys were Xingese, so it might have something to do with the Xing Empire, but they just kind of put off the vibe of hired thugs. Also, they couldn't even identify their actual target, so stupid hired thugs. No, I doubt they could be responsible for kidnapping a bunch of trained alchemists, at least not on their own. But that just meant there were a bunch of people involved and we have no idea who those others might be and…wait, why am I trying to figure this out? It's really none of my business. The only thing I want to know is–

"So, great, you have a lead now. Any chance you know the way back to Central? I really need to get back." Ma' must be having a conniption by now, I think fretfully. And I was supposed to escort Anna to school. What if she runs into some lowlife who wants to do terrible things to my pretty sister–

"That might be a problem," Edward says, cutting off my increasingly panicked thoughts. "I have no idea where we are, for one. For another, there might be more of those goons out here. For all we know, we could be close to their hideout, or at least a checkpoint. Checkpoint means guards."

He looks up the road thoughtfully, almost like he has already made the decision to pursue any additional bad guys that might be out here. Inwardly I panic, having no desire whatsoever to encounter anyone else with a gun or the godlike ability to manipulate matter to their will.

"Well, great," I say, a tad desperately, "then we definitely shouldn't go that way."

Edward turns and gives me a small grin. "Nonsense! Think of it this way, a road means a town! Besides, we can't go back that way," he points at the landslide, which still shifts every few seconds, threatening to send anyone foolish enough to step over it into the ravine.

I turn my head side to side rapidly, searching for another escape route besides the obviously perilous road, but have to sigh a moment later in defeat. The rocky, muddy, steep slope to our left looks nigh impassible, and who would want to go further up the mountain anyway? The sheer drop to our right looks just as unlikely, though I'm sure Edward could get us down. Then what, though? We wander through the valley aimlessly for weeks until someone finds our unfortunate corpses? I think not.

"Alright," I say resignedly, "but I told you, I can't fight."

"What are you talking about?" Ed scoffs, slapping me in the shoulder and already turning to walk up the road. "I saw you take down that guy earlier, you did fine. Besides, if we get in another fight, just stay behind me, alright? Let's go."

My mouth drops open, and I lift a hand to protest. "Aaaah, and he's gone." For some reason, I really don't think 'behind Edward' is very good cover. But anyway, I don't think he gets it.

This guy is clearly used to having companions who can hold their own in a fight. I am seriously starting to wonder if he has ever had to do an escort mission or something, because he doesn't seem to know the first thing about defending someone. Now, that's not to say I'm insulted by the way he immediately treats me like I can handle myself, it’s quite flattering really, but, well, I can't. I've never even stepped out of Central City in my life, let alone wandered the wilderness taking out criminal organizations. And yeah, there’s the occasional shake down I have to deal with living in a rather dangerous side of town, but I put in the utmost effort to avoid situations like that. I certainly don’t go looking for trouble! But…what choice do I have? Edward really is the only friendly person out here, possibly for days. We have to stick together.

I tiredly drag my feet after my volatile companion, aches and pains making themselves known now that I've calmed down. It really is miserable out here. I wish now that I hadn't forgone a jacket in my haste to get to Edward, and I just know that when the sun goes down it will be frigid.

Suddenly, Edward stops his determined charge and hunches over with a loud moan. Alarmed, I jog to catch up. "Eddie? What's wrong?"

He looks up at me with this miserable expression on his face, hands clutching his middle tightly, and I begin to think he's been injured in some way and is only just realizing it now that the adrenaline has worn off. But what he says next causes me to chuckle in disbelief.

"I'm staaarving!"

I have to laugh. He says it in this whiney voice, just like I do when I get home and there's no food in the pantry. For a second his intensity is lessened, and I am reminded that he's my age, not just some military fighting machine. My smile softens and some tension drains from my rigid muscles, comforted by the familiarity.

"Come on," I say cajolingly, lifting him from the ground, "Let's find some food." I look around us, trying to come up with some way to actually get that–I mean, food comes from the market right?–but Edward is already in motion, stumbling towards the steep slope upward. He begins plucking weeds from the ground, gathering them in a pile in his arms as I watch on curiously. Once a sizable pile is collected he grunts in satisfaction and shuffles back down to the road. The blond places the pile on the street, slaps his hands together and holds them over the plants. I watch in fascination as the plants writhe and weave together–alchemy really is something, I should really pay more attention in class!–to make three ropes.

He sits back with a tired sigh. "Do you know how to set up a trap?"

"Er, a trap for what?" I ask, a tad nervous.

He shrugs. "Whatever we can catch."

I gulp. Right, of course. We are just going to eat some forest animals. No biggy. "Sorry, no." He sighs again and gets to his feet, gesturing for me to follow. He leads me up the slope a ways until he finds a sturdy bush.

"Alright, watch closely, we may be out here for a while until my backup can find us…" With that, he starts a rapid fire and concise explanation as he sets up the trap, hands moving in a blur. Though he's speaking quickly, it sounds as if he says this often, maybe to himself when he makes the traps for himself. "First, tie one end to the branch, then tie a small loose loop around the rope close to the first knot, then find a small stick or branch and lay the large loop gently on it–" His hands slow slightly as he does just that, "then leave it. A rabbit or a lizard will strangle itself on it, and bam, dinner." He hands me one of the other ropes and looks at me expectantly.

I examine the makeshift trap, impressed. "How did you learn to do this stuff?"

"My brother and I were forced to stay on a deserted island for a month. It was either learn or die." Edward stands and moves away, searching for another place to set a trap.

I gape after him. Seriously? Just what kind of life has this boy led? And I thought I was bad off when Ma' couldn't afford anything but oatmeal when she lost her job a few years back. I look back to the trap, examining it one more time, before getting to my feet clumsily and starting in the opposite direction from Edward. Alright, let's try this.

A few moments later, I'm struggling pretty hard. Not because I can't follow his instructions, they are rather simple, but because my arm is shot and I can't force my right hand to move quite right. I groan in frustration as the rope slips out of my fingers again. Easy Han, I think to myself, just take your time. I grumble as all I want to do is sleep and forget any of this ever happened, but manage to contain my mini tantrum long enough to get the job done. Eventually, I am able to manipulate the trap to look just like Edward's, though not as pretty. I push myself up to my tired feet and look around to find that Ed is standing by the road again, waiting and watching. I wave and make my way down to him, sliding on loose gravel here and there.

By the time I reach him, I am sweating profusely and thoroughly out of breath. "What's next," I ask, drooping slightly.  
He opens his mouth, about to say something, then closes it, giving me a quick once-over. "We are tired, and all we can do now is wait for the traps. I was thinking about setting up some down the mountain as well and then building a fire in the cover of the trees. Tomorrow we can start to look around."

I sigh gratefully at the thought of resting for a while. "That sounds like a good plan. But, um, how do we get down the mountain…?"

A devious grin is my only answer, and I groan as Edward drags me towards the cliff. "Hold onto me!" He shouts, and I only have a second to grab on before he jumps.

A few flailing and terrifying moments later, and I'm thankfully back on solid ground. I lay on my back, a smug Edward standing over me, just finding myself grateful to be alive. "Told you I could get us down," he says flippantly, wandering off into the forest to gather firewood. I snort. Now he's just showing off.

I think briefly about getting up and helping him fix the fire, but my body lets out a sharp throb of pain and I grimace, easing myself back down. Maybe in a minute. Just need to rest…for a minute…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers. It's good to see you again. I hope you are enjoying this story as much as I am enjoying writing it. Han has it rough right about now huh? I mean, what a city boy. I actually know someone who genuinely believes that food comes from the grocery store. Never stepped foot out of Boston, that guy. Anyway, there was going to be fireside talks in this chapter, but it was feeling pretty long, so I cut it off there. For those of you that are finding Han to be a bit boring, no worries. He'll prove his worth in the end.


	5. Fireside Talks

I wake a while later. A _long_ while later.

For a moment, I am completely comfortable. My limbs feel heavy and leaden, but relaxed. I am lying on a soft patch of grass, plushy but damp. Water soaks through my clothes, but I am not cold. A creeping warmth bathes my left side, and I can see a flickering glow through my closed lids.

I open my eyes slowly, allowing the forest sounds, quite unfamiliar to me, to wash over. The sky is dark, and I can barely see stars peeking through the thick canopy above. I must have been asleep for hours, as it wasn't even close to dark when I passed out.

I turn my head to take in my surroundings, and immediately my body responds with a sharp report of stinging pain from my right side. I groan and sit up, no longer remotely comfortable. I look around through blurry eyes.

It looks like Edward set up camp while I was out. I feel slightly guilty for making him do everything himself. Well, 'camp' is a bit of an overstatement. I once went camping with my sister and a couple of friends in Central Park, not three miles from my home. We had had a tent and a picnic basket full of blankets and food. We hadn't been allowed to make a fire, so we had brought a couple of lanterns and spent the night eating and telling stories, comfortable in food and warm company.

This is not like that night. With every breath, there is pain, emptiness, and a deep weariness in my body. Though there is a small fire warming my front, the ground is cold and damp, and there's a frigid wind at my back that causes me to huddle close. I glance about, but Edward is not around, so I don't even have the pleasure of his somewhat taciturn presence. My stomach roils, so hungry I feel almost nauseous. I scoot closer to the fire, feeling more alone then I have since my father died.

A rustling from the dark forest to my left draws my attention and I tense, a sudden surge of fear gripping me. But it is eased a second later when the fire reveals a tired but triumphant looking Edward, his tan face and hair golden in the firelight.

He gives me one glance and nods in greeting before dropping a small bundle on the ground, shedding his coat, and plopping down across the fire on it with a small groan. Silence falls over us as he leans back and seems to rest for a moment. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I look curiously at the bundle he's brought with him. There are several branches latched together with the same weave he made with alchemy earlier that day, making a sort of pack. Something is sticking out of it that looks vaguely…furry. I look away quickly. I really don't think I want to know.

"So, I'm guessing our snares worked," I say conversationally, though it comes out a bit awkward and rough since I haven't had anything to drink for a while.

"Yeah," Edward says, giving me a small grin. "I see you're back in the world of the living. How's that arm?" He pulls a small green sack from his pack and hands it to me. I study it curiously for a moment, noticing that it made from the same grass he forged the traps from as well. It sloshes when I touch it, hinting at its contents.

I look away at the ground, shamefaced for having passed out. "It's fine," I mumble. "Look, I'm…sorry I passed out on you. I didn't mean to make you do all the work." I take a long pull from the pouch, slaking my thirst with surprisingly clean water tasting of morning dew. I wonder idly if he found a stream or used more alchemy to obtain it.

Edward snorts and sits up, pulling the pack towards him and bringing out two dead rabbits. I gulp, vaguely nauseous as he begins to skin them with a knife he seems to pull from nowhere. "Don't worry about it, Han. I've dislocated an arm before. I had a fever for three days afterward. Couldn't get Al to stop fussing."

I purse my lips, thinking that he's probably exaggerating. I couldn't think of anything that could take this guy down. "Who's Al?" I ask, trying to distract myself from both my shame and the obscene noises Edward is making while he works.

To my surprise, Edward's face softens dramatically. He smiles down at his hands, even though what he's doing is quite unpleasant, and I have to wonder if he even realizes the face he's making. "Alphonse is my little brother. He's always fretting about something or other. Usually me, heh." He glances up at me with a smirk and I have to admit, I'm a bit charmed. "Actually, he looke-sss a lot like you, 'cept he has gold eyes like me." His face suddenly closes off, as if he had a slip of the tongue, and he falls silent.

Not wanting to break the sudden light mood–even though I wonder what he meant by Alphonse 'looked' like me, as if he didn't anymore for some reason–I ignore the slip. "Hah, really? I guess that's why people keep confusing us, even though you're so much–" He glares, "more fashionable than me," I say quickly. Whew, nice save. He looks at me suspiciously and I swiftly move on. "You actually remind me a lot of my father. He liked to wear his hair in the same way."

"Liked?" Edward asks, clearly not having the same boundary issues I have.

"He died," I say as emotionlessly as possible, though I wince when I can still hear a small tinge of pain. Edward looks down.

"I'm sorry."

I shake my head. "It happened a long time ago." Silence falls between us as Edward finishes with the rabbits, skewering them on a couple of sticks to roast. He sprinkles some kind of herb on them then sits back down. Now that they are stripped and headless, they look just like the chickens my ma' gets at the market, so I'm able to ignore what they really are. Edward is wiping his hands on some damp grass, but his white gloves are hopelessly stained. He takes one off, then seems to hesitate with the other, giving me a swift glance. Even though I'm burning with curiosity–automail had always fascinated me– I look away politely. "It's alright. I've seen automail before. The man down the hall from me's got a leg."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him hesitate a moment more before he seems to decide I won't judge him or something. I wrack my mind, trying to come up with a neutral topic so my companion can be at ease. "Um, so what about your father? Is he blonde like you?"

I glance over at his face, which has turned rigid. Oops, another landmine. "He left," Edward says as emotionlessly as I did, though I can hear a soft anger which he holds back.

"Um, oh. Sorry."

Ed shakes his head and gives me a humored look, echoing my words from earlier. "It happened a long time ago."  
I smile back, eased somewhat. "You know, I have a little sibling too. A sister. Her name's Annalise." I chuckle. "She would be all over you if she saw you."

"Uh…" Edward blushed–actually blushed!– and my grin widened.

"She's really pretty," I continued to tease, "with long blonde hair, and she likes her men the same." By now Edward is beat read, and I can't help but laugh. He glowers at me and pokes the fire, and I'm delighted to find something that we can talk about without any grief. Ah, the old ancient fallback of all men everywhere; talking about girls. Suddenly, I feel like I'm hanging out with my friends, just another night out with buddies. I relax greatly, a knot easing in my stomach. Edward might be an amazing guy, but he really is just a person. Like me.

"Cut it out," Edward frowns.

"Awe, come on, Eddie! Don't you have any sweethearts? I'm sure they must be lining up for you."

The blonde glares at me almost viciously, but I've been around him enough by now to recognize true anger from embarrassment. I give him my infamous pout, even going so far as to allow my eyes to water. Just like before, it only takes him a moment to give in with a resigned huff, and I grin triumphantly. Heh, I wonder if his brother Alphonse pulls that on him, too.

"You look like a dork when you do that, you know," He grumbles.

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it. I'm told it's very effective." I look at him pointedly, and he rolls his eyes.

"Alright, alright. There's this one girl…" He busies himself poking at the food, but it's only been cooking for a few moments, so there's not much progress. I make a sound in my throat, chiding him for stalling. He glares. "Quiet you. I'm getting there. She's…pretty I guess. I've known her my whole life."

"What's she look like?"

He gets this distant look in his eyes, similar to when he talks about his younger brother. "She's thin, blonde, blue eyed," his expression suddenly sours, "and she can handle a wrench like a seven foot tall man. She's loud, egocentric, nosy! She frets over everything–" By now he's gesturing widely with both hands and I watch amusedly as he rants. Every once in awhile I hum or make a scandalized noise where appropriate. Thoroughly entertained, I can feel the dark humor lifting from both of us, and it doesn't feel quite so cold.

"–And this one time, she–" Edward cuts himself off suddenly and narrows his eyes at me. I guess he finally noticed my amused grin. "Pretend you don't know this about me," he mumbles crossing his arms and blushing.

"What, where's the fun in that? There's nothing wrong with bragging about your sweetheart."

"She's not my sweetheart," he protests avidly. "She's just my automail mechanic."

"Are you sure? Am I going to wake up in the middle of the night to you moaning, 'Oh Winry, how I miss yoooou–Ow!" A stick soundly bounces off my face and I make a whining sound. "Ah! You're so violent, Eddie!"

"Stop calling me that," he says loudly, though there's a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth for all his bluster. We both stare at each other before laughter bubbles out from my throat, and suddenly both of us are laughing hysterically. I fall back, clutching at my sides, and Edward leans back on his arms with his head thrown back, howling into the air with laughter. Soon enough belly laughs turn into chuckles, and then helpless giggles.

The night falls silent around us, but this time the silence is comfortable. Companionable. I can't help the infectious smile on my face as I stare into the fire, thinking this might not be so bad after all. Insects chirp and the wind rustles, but the fire is warm and comforting. Edward grins and tosses me one of the roasted rabbits, the skin crisped and steaming in the cool air.

"Here, dinner."

I catch it, nearly dropping it on the ground before getting good grip, and look down at it dubiously. "This isn't going to poison me, is it?" I ask, looking at Ed shrewdly through my lashes.

He chuckles. "Just eat." And then Edward does just that, tearing into his own rabbit as if it was the most delicious meal in the world. I grimace and stare at my own. Well, it smells alright. hesitantly, I take a nibble, and…am pleasantly surprised. It kind of tastes like…gritty chicken. Suddenly, my stomach gives a demandingly loud rumble and I no longer care if what I'm eating is chicken or a rock, I begin devouring it as if it's my last meal.

Before I know it, the meagre dinner is gone, and I lick my fingers regretfully, wishing there was more. But alas. At least I don't feel quite so empty anymore.

"You know," Ed says quietly, grabbing my attention. His golden eyes are reflecting fire, the orbs seeming to absorb the light and hold it there. "I haven't laughed like that in ages…"

"Yeah?" Somehow I could understand that. He has a very dangerous job after all.

"Yeah," he suddenly seems shy, and I blink, surprised. This guy's mood changes so much I am beginning to wonder if I will ever get the hang of him. "So, um…thanks."

I smile slowly. "No problem." Suddenly an idea occurs to me and I feel my own cheeks heat. "Hey Eddie…do you think, when this is over…"

He looks at me questioningly. "Do you think…we could be friends?" His eyes widen in shock, and I continue on hastily, fearing I'd overstepped my bounds. "I mean, we could hang out! My friends and I always meet about three times a week at sunset in Central Park, um, or, you could always look me up if you want a break…or something…" I trail off awkwardly as Edward remains silent, his expression not changing. I blush hotly. "I mean, I guess…never mind…" I whisper.

I berate myself. Of course he doesn't want to be friends. He's so cool, and you're…not. I poke at the fire moodily, all good humor gone.

"You..want to be my friend?" Edward asks quietly, and I look up. He has this scrunched expression on his face, as if someone asking him to be friends was a strange idea.

"Well, yeah," I say, a little bit of hope surging in me. I look at him questioningly and he shrugs, almost self consciously.  
"Sorry, I guess it's just been a long, _long_ , time since someone my age wanted to be friends. You know, without wanting something from me or trying to kill me first."

My eyebrows lift, though I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Nearly everything that comes out of this kid's mouth has been insane, so why should now be any different? "So, I take it that's a yes," I say slowly.

He hesitates a second more, and I can see him wavering one way then the other. I can see he wants to say yes, but something is holding him back. "I don't know…Al…"

"Your brother is welcome as well, Eddie. Any brother of yours is a friend of mine, no matter what he looks like," I say pointedly, letting him know I caught the slip he made earlier when he implied Al no longer looks like me. I smirk. "Besides, I'm sure my sister would _love_ to meet you."

He smiles slightly, then frowns. "Be careful what you wish for. I'm a dangerous friend to have."

I look left slowly, then right, eyes half lidded. "Yes, I can see that. But tell you what, if we survive this–"  
"We are going to survive, drama queen." Ed rolls his eyes.

"–if we survive this, we have to hang out to celebrate, little siblings in tow. Deal?" I stand stiffly, muscles protesting slightly, and move to his side of the fire, holding my hand out for him to clasp.

Edward stands as well, looking a bit uncertain. My grin never wavers, and eventually he seems to make a decision. "Yeah," he says, lifting his arm. I shiver as his cold metal fingers slide around mine to clasp my hand tightly. "I think I'd like that."

My grin gets impossibly wider. "Great!" Suddenly my smile becomes devious and Edward's face drops in confusion. I move my hands to hover over my chest, making an obscene gesture "So tell me, my new friend. How big is Winry's ra–"

"Han, you bastard!'

"Agh, Eddie, watch the arm! The arm!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, bro talk. I doubt Edward gets to experience that very often. Han is giving Edward just a little bit of normal, just like Ed is giving Han a little bit of crazy. It should be very entertaining when Han actually meets Alphonse. Can't wait for that insane moment.  
> Thanks for reading. Your encouragement helps me to keep it up!


	6. Han's Resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little light before the storm...

I would only be told this story several years later. _After_ I managed to get Alphonse drunk for the first time.

It wasn't that hard, mind you. I mean, he hadn't had any alcohol….ever. Not since he regained his body and recovered anyway, and I can't imagine him drinking as a ten year old. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I don't really know why it took getting him drunk to tell this particular tale. It's not like it was embarrassing or anything, but well, I never really did connect with Alphonse like I did Edward. Strange, as he is quite a bit more like me compared to his more emotional older sibling, but I guess we didn't go through the same thing together, so whatever. Besides, he might not have connected with me, but Al sure as hell 'connected' with my sister….grrrr. Sorry, still not quite over that yet. I'm expecting a ring any day now. At least, there had better be a ring…

Right, onto the story.

Alphonse was there the day Eddie and I got captured. Not that I could have recognized him, as I was kind of running from him at the time. With Edward. Into a secluded alley…yeah, I know, I'm still kicking myself for that. But, right, Alphonse. He was the one walking towards us at the cafe (when I actually get to meet him is a story for another time. I'm sure you can imagine). The officers watching Edward saw that he was approaching and left their posts, thinking their morning mission complete since Alphonse had arrived to take over. A testament to how capable they thought these boys were, surely. But then, well, we sort of got kidnapped. Alphonse became alarmed when I drew Edward into the alley, but by the time he got through the morning crowd, we were already gone. He raised the alarm, but there was barely a trace of us left.

Some investigations guy–Hughes, I'm told–picked up the trail for Eddie's frantic little bro, and off they went on one of the biggest manhunts in Amestrian history! Well, not really, that's an exaggeration. But they brought a lot of people, let's just put it that way.

And we would need every one of them, in the end.

–Han

-o0o-

That first night, I wake several times. So much is unfamiliar to me, I startle at every sound; the chirping of the birds, the muttering of the crickets, the cold, the rustle of the trees…

Edward, on the other hand, sleeps like the dead. He has to be used to sleeping outside in the wilderness because nothing seems to shake him. I would wake, put more wood on the fire and grumble about, but he wouldn't stir. I envy him that ability. I'm completely exhausted, and the throbbing in my shoulder and the rest of my strung out muscles is not helping either.

Finally, finally, I nod off, my mind settling into strange and vibrant dreams, but only a few hours pass until, unfortunately, I wake again just before the dawn.

I glare up at the whispering canopy above, a gray light just peeking through the branches, and wonder what woke me up _this_ time. I don't have to wait long. A small whimper catches my ear, and I sit up in alarm, looking around. My arm gives a sharp spike of pain, and for a second I just curl around it, waiting for it to pass. It doesn't. The muscles in my back and shoulder have stiffened to the point that every movement sets them on fire. Not to mention the hot throbbing of the joint itself. With a resigned sigh, I adjust the bandage that Edward made for me last night–with much grumbling, I might add–after our little impromptu wrestling match. Man, that guy has a temper.

I put my discomfort aside when I hear the noise again, tensing. It's a small, frightened sound, and for a second, I think some animal has wandered into camp.

But no, I realize that it's coming from my companion. Edward is curled into himself under his red coat on the other side of the waning fire, almost defensively. His cheeks are flushed, and he keeps jerking, as if experiencing a nightmare. My brow furrows in concern over the anguished expression on his face, and I get to my feet slowly, every muscle and tendon popping in protest. My damp clothes absorb the cold wind, and I shiver.

I make my way to his side of the fire, intending to wake him, but then he starts whispering in his sleep. I pause.

"No….Al wait…stop it…don't..take…he's my little brother…." His voice breaks in a pained groan. I frown, and instinctively do for Edward what I used to do for my sister when she had nightmares. This one sounds intense, and ma' always says that it's better for a nightmare to be eased than to wake from one. I wonder if he is reliving a bad memory…

"Shh, Eddie," I say soothingly, resting my palm on his shoulder hesitantly. "No one is going to take Al away." I flounder for a moment, thinking of something to say. "Um, he's back home, safe and sound."

Of course I have no idea if this is true, or even where Eddie considers home, but it seems to ease the distressed boy's pained expression. Under my hand I can feel him relax and I rub his shoulder in small circles, feeling quite awkward but bone-deep too tired to get properly embarrassed at my inappropriate actions.

The blonde is mumbling again, and I lean in to hear. "Mom…sorry…miss you…" His voice sounds small, and so young. I bite my lip, a few pieces of my enigmatic friend's life seeming to click.

So this boy's mother is gone as well as his father. Maybe that's why he's in the military. Maybe he and his brother just had nowhere left to go. And he seems terrified that someone is going to take his brother from him. Or he's just reliving whatever happened to them…

Edward is completely still now, face relaxed in sleep, and I reluctantly pull away. It's none of my business, really, but I can't help but burn with curiosity. What happened to his body? Why is he like this, so intense all the time? Why does he lead such a dangerous life when he clearly has enough money to live very comfortably? There are so many things I want to know...

Ed nuzzles into his jacket and my thoughts slow as I watch, remembering what he said the night before; that no one wanted to be his friend unless they wanted something or tried to kill him first. I, who have a lot of people who I consider close to me and can call friend, can't help but think that's a little sad. Slowly, I feel resolve harden within me, and I determine just what kind of friend I want to be to Edward. I won't ask. His past is obviously painful, and the only people he seems to be involved with are powerful or dangerous in some way. No, I want to be who Edward comes to for a bit of not serious, totally silly goofing off. This guy clearly needs it.

Of course, that's just speculation. I still don't know if we'll survive this crazy adventure, much less if Edward–or I, depending on how this turns out–will have any desire to speak to me again.

I stand, joints snapping, and walk away. No point in trying to sleep now. It's nearly dawn, and I'm feeling quite hungry. After putting more wood on the fire and coaxing it to a steady roar, I wander into the forest to relieve myself and check the traps for breakfast, Eddie's makeshift knife tucked into my belt.

-o0o-

It's an hour later and I'm traumatized. There's another rabbit in one of the snares–actually, they seem to be everywhere out here, startling the hell out of me whenever I pass a thicket–and like the badass hunter I am, I attempt to kill it.

You know, there's this theory that boys in particular have a hunting instinct. That's why they can be so cruel to small animals and bugs when in a group of other children. Well, I call bullshit. I have no such thing as instinct to kill cute little bunnies, no matter how hungry I am!

It was just lying there, gasping for breath with a noose around its neck, clearly terrified. Wide beady eyes seem to glare at me as I approach, my knife all drawn as if I'm actually going to do something with it. My heart pounds practically in my throat like _I'm_ the one being hunted, not the other way around. I gulp. Come on, Han, don't be a wimp. Edward did it with no trouble! Be a man! I creep forward slowly, but when I'm within a foot of it, it starts _screaming_ , scaring the pants off me.

Yeah, that's right. Have you ever heard a rabbit scream? They _do_. I thought they just…munched or something, but no, it was letting out this high pitched, pathetic howl. I look between the rabbit and my knife in horror and nearly lose my lunch. Or, well, last night's dinner. Which was rabbit…oh god–

Now I'm just frantically fluttering around, waving my hands at the beast as if trying to get it to shut up. Which it doesn't. God, I'm an idiot, why didn't I just go back to sleep?

"Han! There you are!"

"Gah!" I jump–no joke–three feet in the air when Edward suddenly shows up behind me. Like, he just popped out of the forest. You just don't do that to people! "Edward," my voice cracks pathetically, but I think I'm too traumatized to care.

Ed's gaze goes towards the trapped rabbit, then to the knife in my hand and the pathetic expression on my face. He purses his lips, and I can't tell if he's trying to hold back a laugh or a roll of his eyes. My face heats and I avert my eyes, ashamed.

I hear a gusty sigh, and to my utter shock, Edward just brushes past me, grabs the rabbit by the neck and _breaks_ it with this awful cracking sound. The forest falls horrifically silent as I stare with wide eyes, mouth agape. Edward stands casually to his feet, unhooking the trap and using it to carry the carcass by its unnaturally angled neck. He glances at me and shrugs. "Come on Han, you have to think of it as food. Foooood, say it with me."

I make this pathetic strangled sound as I stare at the now quite dead rabbit. "Food," I say breathily, before my eyes roll back and I hit the ground in a dead faint.

I find myself back by the fireside sometime later to the smell of, you guessed it, roasting rabbit. I sit up with a groan, rubbing my aching head.

"'Bout time," Edward says from across the fire. He's sitting there munching on a bunny, three more roasting over the fire. My stomach roils, even as I blush hotly. "Do you have any idea how heavy you are?"

"Shut up," I mumble, taking one of skewered roasts. He just laughs as I tear into the meat.

Bellies sated, and both joking good naturally, we begin our trek along the mountain road, searching for a town and hopefully a ride home. Edward makes sure we walk along the side closest to the mountain, just in case we run into more goons. There are plenty of rabbits and other critters around, so we don't starve or anything, but since we have to stop to set up traps before sunset and search for water and a place to camp, we really only get to travel for about six hours a day. It's beginning to wear on us both, as we are going on little food and the road curves steeply in places. Edward lets me know of every ache of his with a continually souring mood and a constant string of complaints. For my part, I just try to keep the mood light, though my shoulder continues to give me trouble, the ache only lessening a little. I'm afraid my constant movement is hampering any healing I might have been able to do. With the temperature continuing to drop, there's a serious concern about frostbite, as neither one of us is really dressed for the terrain. I hope we'll find a town soon, or we might get snowed into one of the many caves we passed in the region. We might survive for a while–Edward is ever resourceful–but I really don't want to find out if we could.

For a few days, we encountered no one. Then…then we stepped into the hornet's nest.

We're walking along an inward turn of the road when an extremely loud bang echoes around the mountain like thunder.

"Edward," I whisper, suddenly and painfully tense. Edward holds a hand up, shoulders taught as a bowstring, and silences me. A second later, he gestures for me to get against the wall and stay put. No complaints here. I slowly step back against the steep slope behind us, wishing there was a better place to hide. Immediately after the gunfire, for that was undoubtable what it was, I hear a lot of shouting men, but I can't tell if they are outraged or scared or even how far they are, what with the echoes from the narrow valley we are passing through. The road curves sharply in front of us, so we can't see around the bend, but that also means we haven't been spotted…yet.

Edward slowly creeps forward and I almost have the insane urge to grab him and pull him back. My heart pounds loudly, blocking out all sound as he carefully peeks around the bend. He only looks for a second before he jerks back around and backs up next to me. His face is pale, and his thin lips are set into a grim line.

"Drachma," He growls.

"The…the large country to the north?"

"Yeah. I think we've found the other alchemists."

"Well, isn't that a good thing?"

"Yeah…for the ones still alive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dundunduuuun. Finally we are reaching the climax of this story. To be honest, I could go on forever about their camping trip. I mean, forever and ever. But this is supposed to be short and sweet, so I'll keep it that way, yeah?
> 
> Hah, yeah, I remember my first rabbit hunt. If you think it seems unlikely that they are catching so many, I'll just tell you that where I grew up as a kid–Central Texas–they are everywhere, especially during wet seasons. Honestly that doesn't happen that often because Texas, but when it does…look out. Bunny infestation. Anyway It's dangerous for livestock because a horse or cow could step in a burrow and break its leg. My dad used to take me and my brother out to help him set up traps, which we made with a wire and a couple sticks, and put them in front of burrows or animal trails. No joke, with no bait, we could catch, like, three a day. Since I'm particularly fond of small, fuzzy things (I have a gerbil), I never could pull the trigger, though. Ew. Anyway, if I ever get lost in the wilderness with nothing but a wire, my pants, and a bunch of rabbits everywhere, I would survive. Probably.


	7. Gathering Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han is just a scared kid. He's weak, and he knows this, but he can't just let Edward go into danger on his own.

My heart pounds loudly in my ears, blocking out all else as I peer fearfully around the bend in the road and into the valley below. Edward stands beside me, taught as a bowstring and practically vibrating with some emotion that I cannot quite discern. Horror, yes, anger, definitely, and maybe…a bit of fear. I can't blame him for that. What I'm seeing is…terrifying. I mean, I've heard about such things. Amestris is frequently at war, and there is no end to the stories but…this is something different. _Seeing_ it first-hand is different.

Drachma, the country to the north. Amestris has been at odds with them for so long, but all I really know about it is what textbooks can tell me and what the military allows citizens to know. Which isn't very much. Even I can tell that it's mostly propaganda, but this…I'm starting to believe that every word of Drachma's cruelty is true.

The narrow valley we stand in opens up into a wide basin. The trees clear, leaving a sparse grassy field that stretches on for several miles in emerald waves. It looks like a peaceful valley, beautiful even…or at least, it would be if not for the menacing marks branded into the ground in deliberate lines, destroying the plant life in its wake in an almost blood-red color of scorched earth. The damage is immense, spanning a quarter of a mile. Peculiarly, it's in the shape of a circle, though the rest of the pattern seems random to me, the shapes converging in archaic lines, almost like the maw of a venus flytrap about to close on it's prey.

About fifteen darkly dressed men stand freely in the center of the valley. They are clothed entirely in black, save for a long red stripe diagonal across their torsos. Five more men are with them, seeming to be more like the hired thugs that captured us. Amestrians and Xingese I think, and even through my fear I can think that it’s logical to have them. After all, Drachman walking through the streets of Central would have caused a stir on the best of days, outright hostility and suspicion on the worst. 

Even from here, all of them look…big. Wide shouldered and strong, and muscled like bulls. I gulp nervously. In their hands are large guns that I would not want to get on the bad side of, and while I could not see their faces from this distance, I could feel malice pouring off of each of them in waves.

There are several tents along the outskirts of the circle as well as several…cages. The kind, wrought iron and cruel, that one would use to transport stock animals for slaughter, though I had more than a sinking suspicion that that wasn't what they are holding. And they aren't empty. There are forms inside, but I can't see exactly what from here.

I don't think I want to know.

More immediately alarming perhaps, are the others. There are six people prostrate on the ground before the Drachmen. They're on their knees and clearly Amestrian by their dress. Some even wear military blues, confirming that they are indeed the alchemists that Edward has been searching for. Five of them are bound as Edward and I had been and the last…she lay on the ground, an unmistakable pool of red around her. It must have been she who was–was–I place my hand over my mouth and pull back in an abrupt jerk, clenching my eyes tightly.

"Ed, who–what are they–" I bite my lip and look pleadingly into my friend's eyes.

He's shaking his head, sight flickering back and forth restlessly. "Drachma. But why are they here on our side of the border?"

"Are you sure we aren't in Drachma?" I whisper, voice trembling. "We were out cold for who knows how long."

He's already shaking his head in denial before I even finish my thought. His voice is husky and low as he responds, thoughtful. "No, we can't be. We would have been in a lot worse shape if we were asleep for more than two days. My guess is they simply ran out of drugs or forgot to dose us. They were trying to bring us here…" He looked carefully back around the corner. "But what for? Why alchemists, and what could they possibly gain from kidnapping them and bringing them to this place? To kill them? There are much easier ways…"

"Do–do you think it has something to do with that circle they burned into the ground?"

Edward places a hand over his mouth and frowns deeply. "Obviously, but I have no idea what that circle is. If it's alchemy, I've never seen anything remotely like it…and Drachma doesn't even practice alchemy as far as I know…" Ed's eyes flicker up and he suddenly leans forward. "Look, that man standing over the alchemists. I think he's the one in charge."

I peer around the corner once more and at the man Edward is indicating. Sure enough, he looks different from the others. He's about a head taller, if that's even possible, and he wears a black hat over a bald head. His back is facing us, so I can't make out much more, but he seems to be leaning over one of the men sitting docile at his feet. The prisoner, an older soldier, is pulled to his feet by two men behind him, and he begins to struggle mightily as is frog marched and held in place. I tense as I hear his frightened shouts echoing off the valley. 

Claustrophobia and a sense of terrible dread grip me. He can't escape. There's no way. "Ed," I whisper tensely, wanting dearly to glance at his face to see how he is taking this, but I can't pull my eyes away from the scene in front of me. We are too far away, and can do nothing as the man is held before the leader like an offering.

The large man brings his hands up slowly as if a priest about to give a blessing, then abruptly and violently grabs the Amestrian by the neck. The helpless man clutches the hands gripping his throat and the other alchemists begin to shout and struggle as well before being silenced viciously by the other thugs. The world seems to take a deep breath in anticipation...

And then the circle activates.

I don’t think I could ever accurately describe to anyone exactly what happened next; stomach dropping in dread, tingles of electricity running through my nerve endings and throat immediately drying out as adrenaline holds me frozen in place. And then there is a terrible light, red as blood, washing out everything. Edward and I flinch as we are nearly blinded. The scorched ground flashes violently, pulsing with the sudden rushing of my blood and illuminating the valley in a sickening glow, darkening the sky. The bound alchemist screams as he is lit up and lifted from the ground by the force of the reaction, electricity visibly licking his body before dispersing haphazardly into the air. 

"What the–" Edward gasps beside me, clearly just as affected as my lungs forcefully vacate, crushed. An intense wave of power passes over us, standing my hair on end and sparking over my skin, cloying and unnatural. For a moment, the ground seems to rumble beneath our feet as the air presses in around us.

And just as I begin to believe that this nightmare will never end, it's over. The light dies abruptly and the alchemist is lowered to the earth where he falls in a heap. The sky returns to depressing gray and the wind flows coldly once more. Edward and I watch, stunned in the sudden complete silence, our pulses hammering in our ears and blocking out all else as the strange power surge leaves our surroundings. 

I slump back against the damp wall and cover my eyes with a shaking hand, trying to draw breath, but it's like trying to breathe through a straw. "What…was that…?"

"I don't know," Ed replies tersely. "But if that was alchemy, it was some kind of crazy bastardized form unknown to Amestris. I think–" Edward draws in a sharp breath, face tensing, and leans forward. I drop my hand and warily look, feeling exhausted.

The civilian is on his feet once again, but he sways drunkenly, as if a shift in the wind could easily knock him over. A Drachman unbinds his hands before stepping away. "What are they–" Ed lifts his hand sharply and I quiet, watching.

Their leader–General?–places his hands behind his back and seems to talk to the unsteady man, shoulders impeccably straight and large bodice looming. He gestures towards the ground commandingly and then steps back. The alchemists falls heavily to his knees, and then…starts drawing in the dirt I think.

I blink rapidly and squint as there is a startling flash of light underneath the soldier's hands, this time white, and then something surges out of the ground a second later. Just as when Edward did alchemy, the civilian controlled the earth to create a…thing. The object looks like some kind of statue, but malformed, as if not entirely certain what it's supposed to be. Then, even as I watch it crumbles to dust, the remains fluttering away with the wind. I shake my head slowly. What was that about? My shoulders tense under an inkling and unpleasant suspicion. There's something…stilted about the way the soldier is moving, almost like–

"He's…he's controlling him," Edward says softly. His voice might have been steady, but his face was anything but calm. Golden eyes spark wildly and his mouth is set in a painful grimace. "He's found a way to control alchemists…"

Suddenly he shifts and I see something in his face that sends a thrill of fear through me. Instinctively I throw my hand out to grasp his steel shoulder. And just in time. I grunt in exertion as his tense body surges forward, almost pulling us both out into the open. Luckily I'm able to catch him by surprise and I throw myself back, using my superior weight to unbalance him. I spin us around and push him against the cliff, placing a firm hand on his pounding chest and blocking the way forward with my body. "Ed, What do you think you are doing? Are you nuts!?"

Wild eyed and clearly caught by surprise, Ed just gapes for a second on disbelief. "What do you _think_ I'm doing?! I'm going to put a stop to this!"

I shake my head, confounded and alarmed. "Edward, there are twenty guys out there. With _rifle_. Even if you could get close enough to them to use alchemy it would be suicide! We should turn around and look for help!"

Edward roughly pushes my hand off of him and gets up in my face, angry. "We don't have time! We could walk for weeks and not find anyone, that's probably why they chose this place. Those people likely only have minutes left to live!" He's frantic, limbs shaking, but determined, if a bit unfocused. I grit my teeth, frustration welling within me in a hot flush. I have to knock some sense in him before he gets himself killed! I placed both of my hands firmly on his shoulders.

"Ed! Say it with me! _Twenty men with rifles!_ For the love of–it's an open field! They'll see us coming a mile away and what if they decide to use the alchemists as hostages to control you!? They wanted to do this to _you_ as well! And let's not forget that these men are clearly experienced in subduing alchemists. This. Is. Suicide!"

Edward's mouth sets into a stubborn line but his frantic expression eases somewhat. He leans back and relaxes with a nod. I release a breath of relief, slowly allowing my hand to slip from his chest.

"Alright," he says, "but we can't leave them. If we don't do something now, they are going to _die_ , Han." He pushes past me with a shrug and continues to observe the men in the field, dismissing me. For a second I stand frozen, shocked.

We. He said _w_. As in, me and him, storming the bad guys. Could I…could I really do that? Am I really selfless enough–brave enough–to endanger myself for these complete strangers? Sure, I might do it for my sister or mother or my friends. But these people are just…strangers. Some of them are even bluecoats; part of the same military that killed my father and stole the light from my mother's eyes! The same people who oppressed those they think are lesser than themselves _all the time_.

Edward’s shift at my side startles me and I glance over at him. He looks so... so strong and sure, crouching at the ledge, watching. He does not waver in his concentration once and I could almost feel the plans forming in his mind.

I feel my face flush in shame and look away sharply. _He_ didn't hesitate. He immediately cared about those people, most of whom he probably never met. And besides that, Edward is military, and he's nothing like what I’ve been told all my life he should be. He's kind and genuinely seems to care about everyone, everything. He’s a hero. He’s–

Everything I’m not. 

I bite my lip, struggling to hold back frustrated tears. I’m just a scared kid. I’m weak, I _know_ this, but I can’t just let Edward go on his own. And he will, with or without me. We are the only ones here who can help, as he pointed out earlier. He's so selfless and brave in a way that I never could be and he'll get himself killed trying to save them if I let him. But still, everything within me fights to run away.

It's not like I'm heartless, I just…It's different when it's you. You hear about these kinds of things, and yeah, you feel bad but…it's like it's not real. You don't see it, so you can ignore it, and that flash of sympathy fades after only a day and life goes on as if nothing ever happened. This is not like that. They are right there in front of me, hoping desperately for some help that would probably never come. Just as easily, my eyes stray to the guns held in the foreigners’ hands, and my heart thrills with fear, limbs vibrating to run, run, _run_.

A soldier holding a gun killed my father. If I do this, I could end up just like him. I likely will.

A strong tremor seizes my body at the thought of that fate. "Ed–" my voice breaks, and my friend tenses beside me. "Ed, I–I–" I bite my abused lip till it bleeds, eyes wide and fearful.

Golden orbs scan my face with the same intensity I have come to know so well, absorbing my terror, my shame. The sharp tang of blood and a sting of pain that fill my mouth can't overcome the sick flavor of fear as I watch him in return. His expression, so ready a moment before, goes through confusion, annoyance, and then…disappointment. Edward swiftly looks away, a deep frown on his face.

I make a small noise of distress in the back of my throat, feeling a sudden crushing sense of loss, as if I failed somehow. 

His respect. I've lost his respect. I flinch in shame, distressed at how…empty that makes me feel. I stare back at the scene with glazed eyes.

The alchemist has made several more statues while I wasn't paying attention. Each is just as malformed as the last, and I can tell that the General is getting agitated. Another flash of light, and another failed statue. Finally the Drachman shouts angrily, a sharp report of baritone, and gestures violently with his hand.

It happens so fast I barely have time to react. Without wasting a single second, a thug lifts his gun and shoots the alchemist. My body clenches painfully as the sound thunders off the mountain surrounding us, then I can only freeze in shock. The soldier merely sways for a moment, blue uniform staining darkly, then falls slowly to the side in a bloody heap.

My vision swims and my surrounding shimmer blearily as I daren't breathe. It's like suddenly the world narrows to a single point and his descent is all I can see. I watch as he falls agonizingly slowly, without even a sound of pain, and hits the ground, blood pooling around him like a macabre shadow. With a casual flick of his hand, the General orders the body removed, and two men pick him up and throw him unceremoniously on top of the dead woman.

Nausea pools within me. I didn't see the woman killed, but I definitely saw this. This is real. They just…killed him. After their experiment failed, they killed him and then threw him aside like garbage. No one deserves that. Not even my worst enemy. A heavy hand falls on my shoulder. Ed’s staring at me, gold eyes imploring, but also accusing.

_Do you see? We could have saved him. We can **still** save **them**_.

My breath leaves me slowly as I turn my gaze back to the dead man, tremors leaving. I see my father flash before me in a hazy wisp of memory. Would he still be alive if someone had stepped up and said no? Yes, they might have been killed, but…but they might have succeeded. Then my father might have returned to me. _I_ might succeed, then these people could go home to their sons and daughters and family. Edward will go regardless of danger to himself.

And then like a smack to the face an image of Edward’s agonized expression in a pool of his own blood, thrown onto the pile of bodies like so much garbage flashes into my mind so violently swift that it sends my heart careening into agony before I can blink it away. I reel in the unexpected intensity of the emotions it brings. I don’t really understand it–I’ve only known him for a couple of weeks!–but I do know one thing. That could– _would_ have happened if we hadn’t miraculously escaped that fate, before I even got the chance to know him, to understand what an amazing person he is.

I feel my expression fall into one of grim determination. I might not care about these strangers enough to save their lives at the risk of my own, but I care enough about him to not let him face this by himself. I might not have known him long, but it was long enough.

_See Han_ , I think disgustedly at myself, _you have someone you know directly in danger. Now you have no excuse for being a coward_.

"What's the plan?" I say darkly, feeling as though my doom is upon me.

Edward's hand falls heavily on my shoulder, drawing my gaze to his once more. My heart eases somewhat at the expression of downright approval on his face. "I knew you wouldn't just leave them."

I shake my head and feel the threat of tears pushing at my control. I blink them away. "No you didn't. You saw I was scared and wanted to run."

A grim smile quirks his lips. "I knew. You came after me when you thought I was in danger after all."

And just like that, he looks away, leaving me to gape in his wake once more. After a moment of stunned silence, I can only chuckle weakly in disbelief. I did, didn’t I? I stumbled after this insane boy, this stranger, when I thought someone was going to hurt him in the city. I had no thought of my own safety then, no thoughts that I didn’t owe him anything. I just did it because it was right. 

And ever since he's been surprising me left and right with his courage, kindness and _worth_. If I thought then that my involvement has helped him in some way, then I would do it again, over and over without any regrets, regardless of the outcome. 

I turn back ahead determinedly. There might be another Edward among those alchemists down there, and I was going to do my damnedest to save them.

"What's the plan?" I repeat, this time with conviction.

Edward, still smiling as if half amused, answers, "We need to get close." The sound of tires and a rumbling motor comes from the bend behind us, and Edward's grin gets wider. "And I think I know how."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That wasn't easy to write, let me tell you. I've never been in any kind of situation like this (or really read anyone else write a scene like this) so it was definitely challenging. Probably rewrote this one about seven or eight times struggling to just make Han's thoughts make sense, but I'm okay with it now, I think. Aaaaand introspection over. We're getting into the action now.


	8. Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han starts to think getting caught is the only thing he's good for.

"Come on," Edward shouts, and suddenly my vision jerks from the road as he grabs my shoulder and begins dragging me to the cliff beside us. He pulls us back several meters around the sharp bend we came from, well concealed from the men in the valley, and stares down the sheer wall. "I think we can hold on to this ledge…"

"Wait, what?" I ask distractedly, still staring nervously down the road where we had heard a motor's roar a mere second ago. My eyes slide to the cliffside Edward was indicating and my stomach does a little nervous somersault at the dizzying drop. Without sparing me another glance, my unpredictable friend plants his hand on the wall and drops his body over without even a split hesitation. Like a spider, he seems to cling to the surface effortlessly and scrambles down to a small ledge, hardly wide enough to support the front half of his feet. He looks up at me expectantly before turning his gaze down the road, a calculating frown on his face.

Dumbly, I stare down at him, shoulders slack in disbelief. But really, I think to myself hysterically, I shouldn't be surprised anymore. Completely–desperately–disregarding the danger to my person, I hastily release my arm from my sling and rotate it slowly. It cracks twice, and there are several twinges of discomfort, but adrenaline keeps it at bay as I sit against the ledge and take in the newest promise of death below my now dangling feet. A backfire from down the road startles me out of any contemplation I might have done before attempting this, and I–trying very hard not to think about it–clumsily imitate Edward's graceful climb. Several terrifying slips and slides later, I cling to the ledge beside the blond. Safe for the moment, I stare determinedly into the rock in front of my face to block out all else. As casually as I can manage, I ask, "So you going to clue me in on exactly what we are going to do here?"

I can practically hear his eyebrow rising, though I don't dare look over. " _You_ are going to stay here. _I_ am going to hijack that car."

I huff out a breath, suddenly amused. "Oh, so _now_ you believe I can't fight?"

A deep chuckle practically vibrates off of my side as he laughs. "Fighting, no. I think I got that much." The car is getting louder now, and both of us tense. Right before it reaches our hiding place, slowing down significantly to make the precarious turn, Edward quips, "But I'm really hoping you can drive," before launching himself over the edge like a damn monkey, leaving me to gape into the stone. I let off a breathless giggle before a slight breeze causes me to press my forehead forward once more. Tires screech above me as the car no doubt swerves to avoid a sudden unexpected obstacle–and I can't help but wonder how many times Edward's enemies had met this particular 'unexpected obstacle'–coming to an abrupt stop. I have no way of knowing what is going on above me, as the cliff conceals me completely, but I can easily imagine. Loud shouting from a single man echoes off the canyon before being abruptly cut off by a deep grunt and what sounds like a sack of potatoes hitting the ground. A few more seconds of tense silence pass before Edward calls the all clear.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, I crack my eyes open, which I just then realize had been tightly shut, before looking carefully above me for a hand-hold. I find one swiftly and lift my arm to grab it, wedging my fingers into the shallow hold as much as I could. Making sure I’m secure, I brace myself. One...two….I heave, barely holding back a cry of pain as my arm zings in protest, and scramble over the ledge until I’m safely back on solid ground. I sit back on my knees and rub my shoulder as I looked around. The car is pretty much identical to the one that had kidnapped us, though this one only appears to have one driver, an Amestrian man, who is crumpled on the ground by the driver's door. A shattered rifle lies by his limp hand.

A pop draws my attention to Edward as he levers the trunk open, looking inside critically. His grimace compells me to lever myself to my feet, walking over on slightly unsteady legs. "What is it?"

Edward leans down, and I curiously move beside him. My expression soon matches his. An older man lies unconscious at the bottom of the trunk, his wizened skin covered in dark bruises and the skin around his bonds raw. "The Singing Alchemist," Edward explains, moving his hand to the unconscious man's neck to check for a pulse. "He's only a research alchemist, so he must have been easy to capture."

"What should we do with him?" I ask quietly. I look around as if trying to find a suddenly existing safe place to stash him, and predictably come up with nothing. Edward sighs deeply.

"We'll have to take him with us. We can take care of him once we deal with the Drachmen."

"Right...should we move him, or…"

"No. He'll be safest out of sight."

 _**We'd** be safest out of sight _ , my mind quips, but I bite my tongue before the sarcastic statement could slip. No more of that, I think. As Edward closes the trunk, I slide around him and move towards the driver's seat. I'm fairly certain Edward wasn't kidding when he implied he couldn't drive, and to be honest, I really don't think I want to be in the passenger's side with him behind the wheel. That could only be...disastrous. Yeah, no. For a moment, I stare down mournfully at the destroyed rifle, wishing I had had the foresight to tell Edward to spare the firearm if he could help it. I've never handled one of course, but I wouldn't have minded having it anyway. Shaking it off, I drop myself into the driver's seat of the still running automobile and look around. I stare blankly for a moment, noting the severe differences between this model and the old transport truck I had driven for a summer job a year ago, before squinting my eyes to concentrate. Right. You can do this, Han. Dimly, I notice Edward slipping into the seat beside me, but ignore his expectant look in favor of trying to remember how to do this. Shift stick, check. Clutch, check. Wheel, check. I wiggled my feet experimentally over the peddles, the engine roaring in response, before easing the vehicle into first gear. It jerks sharply, nearly giving me a heart attack as it lurches towards the cliff, before I regain control with the stiff steering wheel. Two slight over-compensations later, and we’re off.

I ease slightly with an audible sigh as I begin to get the hang of it, hugging the wall beside us as closely as I can. I risk a glance at Edward, who stares intently out the passenger window at the valley below. "Not even a glance," he observes. "They must have been expecting this car."

"Good for us, then," I slow dramatically at another sharp turn. "So what's next?"

He leans back against his seat, almost languid in his ease as if he trusts my driving completely. It's a pretty good feeling, though I had to wonder if he’s pretending when the car continues to jerk under my unpracticed hands. "Next we find a place to stop. Tthere is a copse of trees behind their camp that looks thick enough to conceal us. We just need to find a place to ditch the car."

"...And then?"

"I'm working on it."

It's silent for a few minutes as I concentrate on driving, our descent down the mountain swift now. The valley falls in and out of sight as we hit dips and slip behind trees, and eventually we reach level ground, thick trees and uneven land separating us from the kidnappers. "It looks like the road curves towards the camp from here," I say, and Edward nods.

"Let's stop here. We can run the rest of the way." I pull to the side and drive into the woods a ways until the road is out of sight. We get out and Edward motions for me to stand back. With a quick flash of alchemy, the car is completely concealed. Making sure the trunk is opened a crack so the Singing Alchemist can breathe, Edward steps back. "Okay, we better hurry. We don't have much–" he chokes on his words as the light dims around us and the same strange pressure we felt before deadens the air. Neither one of us could move for the pressure, until it releases and the sky turns blue once again. "...time," he finishes grimly, and both of us begin a swift jog just inside of the treeline.

It is silent as we run, save for our own pants and the quiet rustle of the leaves beneath our feet. Edward keeps a strict watch as he leads me, while I strain my ears in dread, listening for the gunshot I hope desperately won't follow this last transmutation. I hope...I don't know what, just that this alchemist will survive.

It would be a false hope. About ten minutes into our jog, a loud bang causes my step to falter, and I have to clench my teeth hard to prevent the pained groan I could feel at the back of my throat. Edward glances back at me and we share a nod, quickening our pace. Eventually the gentle curve of the road turns sharply and Edward slows to peer around the bend. The last row of tents could be seen only a quarter mile from us now, and my adrenaline ratchets up a notch as I contemplate what we are about to do. We creep closer, painfully alert for any movement, until the first tent is within brushing distance.

The young alchemist peers around the tent carefully before pulling back.

"Now what?" I whisper, heart hammering in my ears.

Edward bites his lip, eyes flickering between me and the camp in indecision. "It looks like the camp is clear. I'm going to search through the tents to see if I can find anything about what they are doing here."

"Edward, that could take forever!" I protest immediately, feeling an acute pain in my chest of the possibility of another alchemist being sacrificed while we dawdle. "We don't have that kind of time!"

Edward places a bracing hand on my shoulder, calming me. "I know, but I don't want to walk into that circle until I know what it is. It might trap us or worse."

"Can't you just destroy it?" I ask desperately, thinking of all the amazing alchemy he had been doing until that moment. Since when was he suddenly the rational one? What happened to that brash boy on the cliffside? Time seems to eat at me as it passes, stripping away my reasoning at the thought that another could die in just mere moments.

The boy merely shakes his head, a darkness passing over his eyes as he seems to see something that I can't fathom. Some tragic memory pulls at his lips, and he grimaces deeply. "Trust me, if we disrupt that circle without knowing whether it is active, we could risk a much worse fate than anything it could do to us now." With those enigmatic words he pulls away from me, peering around the corner once again. "I need you to try and get to those people in the cage, see what's wrong with them. I don't think they are moving. Don't get caught."

Without awaiting my acknowledgement, Edward begins to move away. I blink as panic grips me, realizing he’s going to leave me alone, my earlier determination flying when I realize he would not be with me. Without thinking, I grab onto the back of his jacket, opening my mouth to voice my alarm. His golden eyes stop me, though, and the words stick to the back of my tongue, no longer knowing quite what I'm going to say.

Don't leave me alone.

I'm afraid.

I can't do this.

I'm not a hero!

The boy's gaze holds steady as he waits for me to say something, anything, but I stand paralyzed, clutching at him like a lifeline. In his eyes is determination, that intense focus I had come to know so well, and impatience at being delayed once again. But there was also compassion there, and a certain expectation; the expectation that I would do what I had to, that I wouldn't run, just as he wouldn't. Because it was the right thing to do.

Slowly I release his hood and stand up straight, settling my face into a quivering grin. "Be careful out there, Eddie. I would hate to lose a friend I only just made."

Edward's returning smirk is roguish, a devilish glint in his eyes. "These bastards won't know what hit them," he whispers, and in a flash of red he's gone, moving swiftly between the tents towards his goal.

My shivering smile drops as my teeth clench in a renewed rush of fear while my only protection disappears from sight. My hands clutch my sides as I crouch down, eyes squeezed closed, and I attempt to settle my nerves forcefully. Right. Okay. I can do this. Just don't get caught. I take a deep shuddering breath and remind myself why I'm doing this, why I'm throwing myself into danger. Because Edward needs my help, and those people _definitely_ need my help. I'm in no way qualified, but I'm all they have and I'm the only one who can.

"So quit whining and do it, you coward," I whisper to myself, shaking out my tensed limbs and standing. I peer around the tent as Edward did and find no-one. Carefully, slowly, I begin to creep through the tents. Every brush of wind and every rustle of fabric sends pins and needles down my sides. Shouts come from the direction of the transmutation circle but the camp is quiet, and I can only hope that whatever they are doing keeps them occupied long enough for me to complete my task. After that, though, I don't know what's going to happen, but I ruthlessly push thoughts of the future aside. It will come when it comes. I need to focus now.

The large iron cage comes into sight and I pause, looking around carefully. There are several forms inside, all appearing to be unconscious, but their backs are facing me so I can't see their faces. There is a lot of space between the cage and the nearest tents, and I cringe as I realize that I will be completely exposed for a few minutes while I stand beside it. I can see the field from here, the last row of tents barely concealing me. My gaze hardens at the sight of another body on the pile and I quickly subdue another stab of guilt. Focus. The general is talking, his deep voice gruff and commanding, though I can't quite hear what he's saying. At first I think it's my nerves, until I realize that he's speaking a different language altogether. Whatever the case, he's got the complete attention of the others, so it's now or never.

I look around swiftly one more time before gathering my nerve and running to the cage. It only takes a few strides, but to me the movement lasts an eternity as I'm utterly exposed to anyone who glances my way. Luckily though, my passage goes unnoticed, and I release a silent sigh of relief. I'm against the iron bars now, and there are three men with their backs facing me, slumped forward. Only one of them appears to be a soldier. I watch carefully, noting the rise and fall of their diaphragms. They seem to be sleeping… I spot the door of the cage, which is heavily padlocked, and frown. I don't know if I'll be able to do anything about that. Still, I just want to let them know they are going to be okay, and maybe find out exactly what’s going on.

"Hey," I whisper, the sound almost completely inaudible in my caution. No response. "Hey, um, sir…" I say slightly louder, placing my finger tip against one of their backs. A blonde head lifts slowly, long hair ragged. As if in slow motion, he turns, revealing his face to me. I gasp. He has a heavy brow and a strong jaw, a perfectly average looking man. But that was where the normality ended. Angry red lines, almost like veins, started at the bottom of his jaw and lead my wide gaze downwards to his neck. For a moment, I almost think someone had split his neck open with a knife to bleed sluggishly in a horrible red gash, but a wound like that would have undoubtedly killed him. A flash of light off of the wound-like fissure makes me realize that the red isn't blood, but some kind of...crystal. It constricted tightly around his throat, seeming to almost grow out of his skin and cause those vein-like lines to run in all directions. I looked up into his eyes, horrified, and found them completely blank, dilated. He's looking directly at me, but doesn't seem to see me at all. There's...no life in those eyes.

Suddenly very, very disturbed at the steady gaze, I back away slowly, heart roaring in my ears, and almost forget where I am to escape it. How...how could anyone do this to a person? Incredibly painful looking collar aside, it's like his will is completely stripped away, leaving... nothing. To my alarm, the other two begin stirring, and it's like a signal is transferred, because the blonde who stares at me seems to convulse, shoulders jerking in an unnatural way. Startled, I stumble back, realizing belatedly that I'm within sight of the general. Before I can scramble away to cover, the man opens his mouth and begins _howling ._

I gasp with horror filled eyes as the inhuman sound scrapes against my ears, like nothing I have ever heard from a human. If anything, it sounds like an animal in pain, and the man's expression was nothing but utter agony. Like a chain reaction, the others in the cage begin howling as well, adding to the terrifying din.

Slowly, neck stiff with fear, I tear my gaze from the insane people before me and toward the field, of which I now have a perfectly–unfortunately–clear view. Hard, black eyes of the general are fixed on me with uncomfortable intensity, along with every other thug in the clearing. Their countenances are rigid with surprise, but that's quickly wearing off into hostility. One man takes a menacing step in my direction, and I only have one thought.

Shit.

I bolt, tearing through the tents as angry shouts add to the insane howls, but I can't hear anything through my own roaring thoughts and panting breaths. How? How could I possibly have fucked up this badly? How! Check on those prisoners, he said, don't get caught, he said. Apparently I can't even be trusted not to set off every alarm known to man that I'm here! Oh sure, talk to the prisoners that you should have known had been experimented on with _mind control_ . It's not like you just _watched it happen_ an hour ago!

Tents and equipment race past me as I run for my life, not daring to look back even as I imagine in my mania that the men are practically breathing down my neck. I can see the treeline just a few rows of tents away as I race towards it, but I know my chances are pretty slim that I would get away even then. But hell if I won't try.

A hand grabs at my shirt, grazing my collar as a man shouts foreign profanities at my back. Not that I could tell they were profanities. For all I know, he could be professing his love.

"Fuck!"

Whoops, I understood that one. I put on a frantic burst of speed to escape him, but scream in alarm as the tent beside me bursts open and I run into a–very solid–man. Before I can do more than stumble back on my ass huge hands vice grip my shoulders painfully, and I scream in agony as I can feel my shoulder almost snap once more out of place. I have more things to worry about, though, as I'm suddenly surrounded by my pursuers. I struggle uselessly in the man's insane grip, even going so far as to kick as hard as I can at his knee. It cracks loudly, and I'm dropped with a curse. I fall to all fours and struggle to rise again, but the press of cold steel to the back of my neck causes me to freeze more effectively than any other threat of bodily harm in the world.

Silence falls around me for a brief moment as I still like a frightened rabbit, taking in the half a dozen sets of feet surrounding me out of my peripheral, when my vision flashes violently white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! I know, I know, it was a mean cliffhanger, but if I didn't cut it off here, this chapter would be over 10,000 words long and I like to keep my chapters short. Also, if I had continued, the cliffie would be twice as cruel, trust me. Man, Han messed up a bit yeah? I don't blame him for it though. I would not have seen that coming either. Except, y'know...I'm the author. Whatever.  
> See you soon!


	9. NOT EDWARD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han doesn't know whether he should be flattered people keep mistaking him for Edward. Well, he might be, if the people who mistook him didn't keep trying to kill him.

When I come to an indeterminable time later, I'm face down in the dirt, rocks digging painfully into my cheek. But that's nothing– _ nothing _ –compared to my suddenly aching head.

_ Damn...thug hit...me with his gun... _ I think sluggishly, moaning quietly as my vision flickers and fails. There is a dull ringing in my ears, but through it I can hear more foreign shouting from above. I blink my eyes open blurrily and find myself face to face with a...foot. I turn my head up and recognize the guy I kicked, and though he glares at me fiercely, clutching at his leg in pain, he makes no move to kill me. For a brief moment, I allow myself to feel vicious satisfaction that I'm the one who hurt him–and gosh, where have these suddenly violent thoughts come from?–when a deep bark silences the men surrounding me. Suddenly the fear was back with blinding intensity as I recognize the general's voice. I dare not move as he walks around me slowly until his boots are all I can see. Black and huge, they fill my nose with the scent of mud, decay, and blood as I tremble, prone before him.

One boot rears back, and before I can so much as flinch, a vicious kick to my side sends me sprawling onto my back with a grunt of pain. My vision blurs dizzily for a moment, still reeling from the blow to the head, but soon enough I have nothing to block the view of his menacing gaze, black as coal. He really is bald, I think distractedly through the fear, and easily twice my width. But now is not the time for inappropriate observations, because he begins talking in his foreign tongue. The men surrounding us snap to attention as he shouts sharp questions. I can do nothing but stare through half lidded eyes, immobile with vertigo. Eventually a man answers hesitantly, and the general looks back down at me with a disturbingly calculating gleam.

"So…" he says, accent thick, and I startle as I can finally understand what he is saying, though barely. "So you are the Fullmetal Alchemist…Hero of the People..." A moment passes as I translate his words into some sort of sense. He seems to almost chew on his syllables before spitting them out, louder than strictly necessary. My first thought: wow, Eddie actually  _ is _ a hero….And then I realize what he just said.

What?! 

A sudden flush of irrational indignation flashes within me as I'm accused of being Edward  _ again. _ How many times is this going to happen? We don't even look alike, damnit! I mean, do I look like some short, pretty boy alchemist with an unhealthy relationship with adrenaline? "M'not," I rasp, perhaps unwisely. After all, if he thought that he might let me live for a few extra minutes, maybe enough time for the real Edward to jump out and save me. Where the hell is he anyway? I could really use an over the top, ridiculous rescue right about now!

Luckily for me, the Drachman doesn't seem to understand my punch drunk speech, because he ignores me as if I hadn't spoken in the first place. "How did you escape?" he muses, almost amused, though it could have easily been anger judging by his tone alone. "It appears the rumors about you are true. Perhaps you are strong enough to bear the collar, hm?"

Um, no, definitely not, thanks. My eyes widen at the implication that I was next in his crazy game of 'collar the alchemists', and I sit up in alarm, only to have his heavy foot pin me back in place, crushing the air from my lungs. Okay, Eddie, I could really use your help...now! Anytime.

Another sharp foreign command and I'm restrained and bodily dragged, kicking and screaming to the transmutation circle. Another 'warning' blow to the head nearly cracks my skull, and I fall limp, dizzily watching the ground pass beneath me and regulated to vaguely protesting grunts. None of my slurred proclamations of 'not Edward' are being heeded.

Well this is just great. I always wanted to be the vacant slave of a psychotic Drachman while being mistaken for someone else. All of my dreams are coming to  _ fucking _ fruition.

We stop and I drag my head up, sore neck protesting the movement. Through my blurred vision, I see the black covered chest of the general in front of me, the red sash imprinting and flashing even when my eyes are closed...I drop my head again through another throb of pain, but a man jerks my hair back, forcing me to look up. I let out a pained grunt and struggle weakly as the Drachman general smiles down at me smugly. "Amestris's favorite dog. You're not nearly as impressive as all that," he says gruffly, and the men around me laugh, as if he told a hilarious joke. If I wasn't so terrified, I would roll my eyes at their obviously deferential attitudes. As it is, I can't find anything funny about this. At all.

"I–" I try one more time to tell this idiot that I'M NOT EDWARD but a harsh blow to the gut stops anything I want to say and replaces it with a breathless wheeze. My head is forced up once again, and my eyes fill with water, both in pain and desperation. His white malicious grin shines through my darkened vision and the fear...god the fear. It pulses through me like hot acid in my veins, forcing every muscle in my body to struggle, though it does nothing more than increase the pain in me and the pleasure of my captors. And then I realize it doesn’t matter that I’m not Edward, either way I’m going to die. They don’t care.

Don't do this, I plead silently. Please! Don't do this! And they are laughing and I realize that I said it out loud, and it only makes it so much worse–

But there is no compassion in that face, no acknowledgment of my crippling turmoil. There is only greed, and a bottomless cruelty that I could never understand.

As if in slow motion I watch his gloved hand lifting towards my neck, its palm already covered in the blood red substance that makes the collars. Perhaps it is made of crystallized blood. I suppose I'm about to find out. At the last moment, before those cruel fingers lock around my neck, my eyes stray to the bodies piled cruelly on top of one another, and my gaze locks on the empty one of the woman's, the first casualty we had seen. 

She really had been quite beautiful, and still is even in death, even as her face is clutched forever in an expression of agony and an ugly red scar mars her pale skin. There were four bodies in the pile now, four I had not been able to help, that had died because of  _ my _ hesitation, and now...now I am going to become one of them. My eyes close as I feel the rough fabric of his palm beginning to cut off my air supply, slowly and torturously as if the man is enjoying it. He probably is, the sick bastard. Tears slip from my eyes as I feel the fiercest regret I have ever experienced wash through me like a new wave of pain. This is it. This is what I get for trying. I tried, and accomplished  _ nothing _ . It's so pathetic that I think I would laugh if I were only able.

"You are mine, dog," he proclaims, every word dripping with smug disdain.

"Eat–shi–" I grunt through the constriction, a sudden blinding fury taking over me. My eyes open with a fierce hatred for this man, an emotion so intense I truly believe I have never felt the depth of it before. This is true evil. Not the soldier who accidentally shot my father, and not the military police who constantly abuse their power. It is this man, empty of all humanity, and I want to see him  _ burn _ . It's so unfair, that I will die by his hands, so  _ ridiculous _ even that this is my reward for trying to do the right thing. I can't accept it. I  _ won't _ . 

But I don't have a choice any more.

With only a mocking grin as a response, the man tightens his grip, and I feel the now familiar pressure of the transmutation circle activating, but this time, I'm at its center. This time, I'm the victim. I hold my fierce gaze through the pounding terror as long as I can. Damn you. DAMN YOU!

"General Viktor!"

The name, shouted loudly and demandingly by a familiar voice, slices through the drama like a sharp knife, and the general startles his gaze from my spotting one, the pressure around us dissipating in a rush of clean air as the transmutation fades. Unfortunately for me, his grip does not, and any surge of hope I might have had is tempered by the lack of oxygen. My eyes roll to the side to a familiar figure cutting a swath of red in my peripheral, just on the edge of the circle. He had crept up unnoticed by them all it seems, as those closest to him jump a foot in the air in surprise and whip their guns to point at him threateningly.

Edward–for who else could it be, the late jerk–is not deterred in the least, completely at ease, and again I wonder through my muddled thoughts at his insanity. Whatever he has planned, I hope he does it soon, because my vision is seriously blackening around the….edges…

Suddenly, just as I am on the verge of unconsciousness, the pressure around my neck releases. My lungs inflate desperately, taking in sweet air, only to expel it viciously as my bruised larynx makes itself known. Painfully. I hang limp, shuddering and gagging between the two men supporting me, while the madman's attention fixes unerringly on the new arrival, intrigued.

"Another one? And who would you be, boy?" He rumbles, tone menacing.

"Just the man who is going to stop you," Edward retorts casually, voice almost indifferent and not at all threatened. He doesn't even look in my direction.

The general stiffens with a deep frown, but lets out a loud laugh a moment later. "Man? I see no man, just a small boy. What will you do, child?"

A flash of unadulterated anger flashes over Edward's face, and I can't contain a wince, knowing precisely how he reacts to being called small. No explosion follows, however, and the expression is gone a split second later. Clearly Edward won’t be goaded by this man. "You don't know what you're doing, General Viktor," he says with a fierce calm. "Or should I say...disgraced general?"

The man's black eyes narrow. "You will watch your tongue,  _ child _ ."

"Drachma will not sanction these actions,  _ Viktor _ ," the young man goes on, undeterred. He waves a paper in the air, fanning himself, and the man stiffens beside me. "The ruling family rejected this little experiment of yours  _ twice _ , and you were banished in disgrace." A low murmuring whispers around us as a few of the Drachmen shift in unease.

To his credit, Viktor does not react, only stands straighter. "What would you know of the Mother Country, boy?" His eyes light with mania, and I wish desperately to stand back from him. I turn away as he gesticulates wildly, almost hitting me in the face. A flash of movement distracts me, and I gaze into the forest across from us, straining my eyes. No… I must have imagined it… "The ruling family is young, and do not know of what they speak! Amestris is nothing but a scourge on this world, and I will restart the war to end it once and for all, starting with its own dogs!" He spread his hands out wide, glaring into the sky with menace. "I will use these abominations against their own comrades and destroy this country from the inside out!"

"You'll have to take me down first!" Edward proclaims, clapping his hands loudly with a flash of white light. Gunfire immediately explodes in the clearing but Edward is somehow faster, erecting a wall of stone just like the one he used earlier that day, and it spews out thick earthen spikes. Complete pandamonium ensues as the men around me, including the general, shout in alarm. I am dropped to the ground where I fall heavily, still struggling to breathe. I look around wildly as men scramble to not get hit. Edward rushes from behind his stone wall, erecting new attacks every time his feet touch the ground. Miraculously, I am not hit, though the projectiles seem erratic and random. Gunfire still rains in a deafening din, but the disgraced general barks at his men, trying to get them back under control. For a couple of them, he succedes, and two identical Xingese men move to stand at his side. Chains like the ones used by the thugs that captured us spring from the ground and attempt to subdue Edward, still seeming to stay just out of the transmutation circle.

"Ha," the general barks loudly in exhilaration, regaining his composure, "I seem to have gotten it wrong before. YOU are him! The Fullmetal Alchemist!"

"Finally catching on, old man?" Edward quips, dancing just maddeningly out of reach of the cursing Xingese alchemists.

"It seems that I am,  _ Elric _ ," he growls, the name rolling off his foreign tongue like a particularly nasty curse. Edward slams his hands to the ground, spewing out two more stones moving faster than the men could react, taking them both out with pained cries. He transmutes a weapon, pulling it out of the ground like a flailing snake doused in electricity before it snaps into a rigid spear. He runs straight for Viktor, whose smile remains firmly and infuriatingly in place. He continues to speak casually as if certain death by impalation wasn't staring him in the face. "But if I was wrong about you, then who might this be?"

Quick as lightening, the insane man's hand shoots out towards me as I only just regain my feet to try and run. But I'm much too late. Once again, a vice-like grip surrounds my abused throat and I convulse in silent protest. My watering eyes fix on Edward, who had frozen the moment I was threatened again, deadly blade stopping only inches from the general's neck.  _ Do it _ , I implore, mouthing the words,  _ you're so close! _ But he doesn't budge. His eyes fix on me, and a spasm of fear crosses his features, and such an intense  _ protectiveness _ that it would have taken my breath away if it hadn't already been stolen from me. Taken by surprise, I wonder what I have done to earn such loyalty, but hardly have the time to think about it as Edward's gaze turns with hatred towards my captor, waving the spear threateningly but doesn't plunge it home for fear the man will break my neck before he can.

"Oho," Viktor says triumphantly, shaking me slightly so that my face contorts in pain. "I see, I see. Who could it be? A brother, perhaps?" He eyes me speculatively once again, assured that Edward will not move while my life is threatened. I glare back, though tears run freely down my cheeks. "I had heard Fullmetal's younger brother was talented as well…"

Oh, great, now I'm Alphonse? Just my luck. Why couldn't anyone believe that I'm just a random normal guy? Oh, right, because usually random normal guys don't get involved in insane shit like this!

"NO," Edward immediately denies. "He's no-one. Just someone I met on the road."

While this is completely true, the words sting. Urgh. That hurt a little…

Still, the general does not believe him, not even taking his gaze from mine. "You will do just fine, I think," and my heart stutters in fear but he turns back to Edward with a sly smile. "Unless...you would like to take his place, Fullmetal?" He says it nicely, like a pleasant suggestion, though his words drip with falsehood.

Edward grimaces, golden orbs flicking between me, the bodies piled a few yards away, and those still trapped in the cage behind us. My gut clenches in trepidation. Obviously he knows that's stupid right? Right? The alchemist hesitates, shoulders relaxing ever so slightly in indecision, and inwardly I scream at him. Don't! Don't you dare! I'm not worth it! Just  _ do _ it!

Apparently that hesitation is all the insane man needs, for he shouts a triumphant cry and grabs Edward by the neck as well, catching the blond completely by surprise. Edward tries desperately to impale him with the spear at the last moment, but barely grazes the man's neck before he activates the transmutation circle with a manic chuckle.

Terror grips me, the same fear reflected in my friend's eyes, and pressure builds around us as if the very air is being sucked to this spot and compressed. It is just as before, but this time there is nothing to stop it.

The world turns red, and all I know is pain. And then, like a cleansing flash of flame, all I know is  _ anger. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Yeeeeah, Han is basically playing the damsel in distress again, but look! Is that a spine?! I know, I can't believe it either. 
> 
> Lots of heavy foreshadowing here. This next chapter will be fun. Go get 'em boys!
> 
> Next chapter: Edward is subdued, Han is angry, and it's time for someone else to be the hero.


	10. The Contract

Agony.

It's the only word that can describe it. I know I've felt pain before; broke my leg when I was twelve. It had felt as if someone had taken a hot poker and impaled my limb with it, burning through my flesh and muscle with agonizingly slow precision. I passed out from that pain, my young body unable and unwilling to comprehend it. 

I had witnessed the light leave my mother's eyes when I was only ten, the year my father was killed. I watched her withdraw from me until she no longer recognized her own son for a time, her eyes only a blank wall of grief and inner turmoil. In a way, I lost both parents that year. That had felt like a terrible illness, a constant pain and pressure in my chest and behind my eyes so strong, I could hardly breathe on most days. And sometimes I didn't try. If I hadn't been trying to be strong for my baby sister, the damage of rejection and loss would have been immeasurable.

This is not like those times.

Red blocks my vision in blinding, suffocating pulses. My body feels as though it is alternately squeezed and released in quick palpitations, like the heartbeat of some malignant beast. But no, the pain is  _ deeper _ than that. There is no physical penetration, no blood drawn, but the agony is internal, spiritual, as if my very being that makes me who I am is being attacked. At first, there is only the intense pressure, driving any air I might have had left from my abused lungs until I feel as though I will crumble beneath it. But then it changes, the pressure becoming outright pummeling, each strike becoming more and more sharp until every press inward seems to drive spikes of sharpened steel into my core. The pulses quicken, the spikes drive deeper, until there is an almost physical crack from within me, a barrier being destroyed.

Then the pain becomes all too real.

Like a flash fire I am suddenly consumed by a terrible burning throughout my entire body, as if thrown over an open pit of flame. The fire licks at me, scalding my skin and bones, paralyzing me as every muscle in my body seizes at once. I would scream, and I try, but the restriction around my neck prevents even an agonized whimper from escaping. I feel trapped in the most brutal way, not even able to scream my agony into the sky to relieve even some of what I'm feeling in a primal cry. But there is screaming, though it's not from me.

A husky, deep howling, like an injured predator, almost hits me physically from my side, distracting me momentarily from my own body. I recognize the voice and it pulls at me, almost physically, compelling me to become aware through the fire.

Ed...ward…!

It is then that I become aware that the fire isn't only pain, but a deep seated and  _ terrible _ anger that burns just as brightly, just as powerful. Images begin flashing behind my clenched lids, of black, malignant stares, and empty, apathetic souls that torture, torment and kill innocents without remorse. I see the eyes of the dead woman, so beautiful in death, her gaze seeming to pierce through me with accusation and her face forever locked in a visage of agony, ironically the only person I shouldn't feel guilty about. I see the empty eyes of the man in the cage, his soul trapped or gone, and the deep scars of red around his neck, like a macabre collar. And I see the flash of fear across my friend's face, usually so strong and sure, as the hand closes around him without any time for a reaction other than a startled cry.

There is an especially strong pulse, and then the pain in my body begins to withdraw from my extremities, seeming to curl into my core. But I force myself past it, using my anger as a shield against any further torment.

The withdrawing pain peaks within me, centers in a bright anguish around my spine and neck, but I strain my eyes open through it, and focus past the blinding pulses of red. A thick, bulging arm holds me in place, and my gaze crawls past it to the despicable, loathsome man it is attached to. Through the bright red, his black visage gleams maniacally with an almost inhuman glee, Viktor's–no, that  _ creature's _ –face almost eaten up by a sharp, greedy grin.

In that moment, I feel such a strong surge of  _ revulsion _ at the thought that momentarily I would be this  _ thing's _ possession, to be killed at a whim after my use was done. That I would become like those howling creatures in the cage, blind and soulless and insane.

And so would Edward.

...No. NO WE WILL NOT! I shut my eyes and bare my teeth in a silent scream as I feel the fever peak, and with every ounce of my battered soul that is left, I create a weapon of my own and  _ force it out _ .

The world shifts.

A door opens.

And suddenly I am thrown into silence.

For a moment I don't react, body tense, teeth and eyes clenched, anger burning. But then a slithering voice seems to crawl into my ear, causing me to shiver.

" _ Well, well, what is this?" _

It isn't a voice, not really even a sound. It is as if the words float through my mind in the voices of many, or maybe none. Impossible to describe. I open my eyes slowly, suddenly aware that I am now standing under my own power once more, only to shut them immediately when I am blinded by a white light so intense that it blocks out all else. I blink once, twice, and when the white doesn't clear, I realize that white is all there  _ is _ .

" _ Another one come to play?" _

The voice intrudes again and I force my head to lift, to look around. I am in a completely empty space devoid of any life or color. But no, not completely empty. As I turn slowly, I become aware of an immense form towering above me only a few yards away. I squint, trying to see precisely what it is, but it shimmers as if not entirely corporeal.

"A….door?" I whisper, and even my own voice seems to be absorbed by the air, not even an echo reaching back to me.

And indeed, it  _ is _ some kind of door. A massive stone gate towers over me, it's surface inscribed with archaic and incomprehensible runes that I have never seen the likeness of. There are no handles, only a slim seam that indicates that this massive, incorporeal door to seemingly nowhere could be opened at all. Or at least it could be, if it wasn't covered in thick, rusted chains that hold it shut with padlocks the size of my torso.

I shake my head slowly, brow furrowed. "What the hell…" I clench my eyes shut, then open them. Nope, still there.

The voice comes from behind me once more, and I turn my back on the strange illusion to take in the newest hallucination, the suspension of disbelief the only thing keeping me from breaking out into insane giggles. But I hold them in, because if I start to laugh I just might cry, and then where would I be? 

A man stands only a few paces away from me. Well, I say man, but he is more the size of a child. The figure is shrouded in complete darkness, the antithesis to the light surrounding it, and the only feature I can make out of this strange creature is a startlingly white grin that seems to eat half its face. I am tempted to take a step back from the strange apparition, but something holds me in place, a numbness that mutes me just as our surroundings are muted.

For a second nothing happens, but then the smile slides slowly off of the creature's face until the white is completely gone, leaving a sort of intimidating blankness in its place. Suddenly, I can feel a wave of anger from the being like a physical force.

" _ What is this? What is this? You are no alchemist!" _

His displeasure is palpable, and I can't help but feel a brief flash of irritation through the numbness. What the hell?! Does this world only revolve around freaking alchemists or something?

"Sorry to disappoint," I growl at the creature, crossing my arms. I really am getting sick of all the surprise when it turns out I'm not some god-like being that can manipulate matter at my will. Is that damn ability all that makes anyone worth notice or something? I really, really want to go home now, where there are normal people and normal problems and– a stab of pain in my neck thrusts the numbness away and causes me to gasp. I clutch at my throat, bewildered, but I have to yank my hand back as it is pierced by sharp edges, drawing blood. I stare at my pierced fingers numbly, then with dread, bring them carefully to my neck once more. Horror grips me as I carefully feel the jagged edges of an unmistakable collar around my neck, and if I could somehow see it, I knew I would see hard, crystallized protrusions of blood red.

Like a flush of adrenaline my anger is back, driving away the horror. NO! No, I have to stop this! I clench my eyes shut, willing this ridiculous hallucination to GO AWAY so I could get back to reality and fight that damn madman before it's too late.

No such luck. I am pulled back as the being in front of me begins to talk once more.

" _ No. No, no, no, this is a breach of contract," _ I glare at him as he seems to talk to himself, stubbornly not disappearing like I want him to. The being's arms are crossed petulantly over his chest as he throws some kind of fit. " _ He promised me alchemists, and this one's not an alchemist, no, no–"  _ He cuts himself off, mid-rant. Slowly, the consuming grin reappears deviously, causing my glare to falter. " _ Oh. Oh yes, I like that idea." _

I frown in confusion. This kid is quite insane, and I would really like to leave now, thank you very much. But still there is no return to reality, much to my frustration. Instead, the creature begins walking around me slowly, as if examining my worth. I keep my eyes on it distractedly as my frustration grows. What? What does he want!? I open my mouth to ask, but I am immediately cut off.

" _ You are angry at the foolish general too, no?" _

"I…" I blink in confusion, and then frown deeply. "Yeah, that's an understatement." A rather severe one at that.

The creature stops in front of the shimmering gate and looks up at it contemplatively. Well, I say look, but it doesn't really have any eyes, so really just turns his face–you know what, whatever. He gazes up at the gate before looking back at me. " _ I am angry too. He broke our contract. NO-ONE breaks a contract with ME." _

I believe it, I think distractedly as this situation only continues to get ever more creepy. But I am not distracted for long. Another spike of pain causes me to wince, and my hand hovers over my increasingly tortured neck as if it could somehow rip the collar from my flesh. I glare impatiently at the creature, waiting for it to get to the point so I can LEAVE, as it seems it won't release me until it does. He tilts his head coyly.

" _ I have a proposition for you, boy. I will release you from the collar's control." _

Surprise surges up within me, and my eyes widen with sudden hope. He can do that?

But there is a catch. There is always a catch. " _ In exchange," _ he continues, and I grimace, just knowing I am not going to like this. I am absolutely right as the grin returns menacingly. " _ In exchange I will take that of yourself which you most value." _

"What...what does that mean?" I ask, grimacing through the pain of using my constricted voice.

The grin widens. " _ Just what I said." _

I think furiously as time passes in an indeterminable moment. That of myself...that meant he is taking something only from me, right? He isn't going to be able to harm my sister or my mother or anyone else for this choice, right? I have no idea what he is talking about, though. The thing about myself that I most value? I mean, I’m not an overly vain guy, but there are many things about me that I value...

But he said he could release me from that foul man's control. If he did that, then maybe I would have the chance to fight back. I could take him by surprise. My face sets in grim determination as an image of Edward's fear flashes in my mind. There is no way I am going to let either of us, or  _ anyone else _ , become that insane man's plaything. I will destroy him.

It's in that moment that I realize how well and truly I am past my breaking point. Never before have I wanted so badly to cause another person harm. It is so against my nature that I am almost afraid of my own thoughts, and there is a small part of me curled up in my chest trying to shield itself from these foreign feelings. But there is no time for self-doubt now.

"What do I have to do?"

The smile drops from the creature's face and he leans forward. " _ Disrupt his circle and give that contract breaker to  _ **_me._ ** "

Reality seems to encroach, and then I am falling. Red begins intruding in my vision, and the pain returns in a debilitating wave. I scream. Just before I am pulled away completely, my gaze locks on the shimmering gate in front of us. Even as my vision is fading, it seems to become more corporeal with every passing second, and as my sight goes completely red, I hear the sound of clanging chains shattering and falling in a racket of clattering metal.

The world shifts violently, and reality settles solidly on my shoulders once more, as if gravity is suddenly three times what it is normally. Oppressive.

There is pain, unbelievable pain, around my neck and pounding through my head, and I realize that the being must have been holding it back somehow. But even more than that is the screaming in my lungs, as my airways are still restricted by the cruel hand of the general who holds me off the ground. As the last of the light fades, I am finally,  _ finally, _ released, and I fall to my knees in a heap, slumped forward, my golden and matted hair concealing my eyes from view. I wheeze, and blessed air enters my lungs for the first time in what feels like an eternity. My body wants to convulse and cough, but only by force of will am I able to remain silent. A similar wheeze to my right draws my attention, but I dare not look over at Edward, fearing that I would give myself away.

I'm free of his control. I'm aware. And I only have one shot at this. I spare a brief thought about what that being had taken from me–I mean, besides the collar and injuries I feel completely normal–but then push it aside. Whatever it is, I can deal with it later. Honestly, I'm quite willing to believe that that whole experience was just an insane hallucination, and that I'm only free because of a mistake on the general's part. 

Well, willing to believe, but don't really. It had been too real...

By margins, I become aware of an uproarious laugh from above me, and the general's voice intrudes on my ears like a poison, rekindling the fury I had only momentarily been distracted from. "Too easy," he boasts to cruel laughter from the strange mixture of men surrounding us. Discretely, I flick my concealed eyes around, trying to see the situation through my hair. Edward had taken out a fair few thugs, but there is still six or seven just in my vision. I resist the urge to frown. How on earth am I going to break this circle? I fix my gaze on Edward through the corner of my eye, and internally cringe. He is slumped over in the same position as myself, but unlike me, his hair is bound behind his neck and I have full view of the vicious collar digging into his skin, identical to those I had seen before. Ugly red veins mar his fair features, and I can't see his eyes through his bangs, but his jaw was slack with defeat. A stab of guilt makes itself known to me, and I can't help but give a slight wince. He got caught because of me  _ again _ ... I force my eyes away, suppressing it. Now is really not the time.

I despair, looking for something, anything, that I could use, or would cause a distraction so that I wouldn't be shot full of holes the second I move. A flash of movement from the forest surrounding the large clearing catches my attention once more, and I zero in on it in confusion. Was that…? This time, I don't dismiss it as imagination, and hope surges within me.

Yes, that will do nicely.

Crunching boots draw my attention back to the general as he begins to walk around us languidly. "They thought they were heroes," he spits the word out as if it tastes particularly nasty on his tongue. "Little boys thought they could stop me…No one can stop me...I will tear this country apart…"

Good, I think, keep talking. Keep distracting your hired thugs. Any second now...come  _ on _ …..I glare into the treeline,  _ willing _ something to happen.

And then, like a hurricane blowing through an unsuspecting glade, something  _ does. _

The general comes to a crunching halt behind us, and to my alarm, he grabs me by the hair and yanks my head back. I withhold a whimper of pain, keeping my face carefully blank, but it's no picnic to not react to the stinging of my hair being yanked from my follicles. I should get some kind of reward for this. Edward does not fare as well as me, letting out a pained grunt. The insane man crouches down between us and I can smell his acrid breath as he let out a deep chuckle, and it takes everything I have not to crinkle my nose in disgust. "Two new dogs to add to my collection. I certainly hope you pass my test. It would be a shame to lose such a prize as 'Hero to the People', huh, huh, huh."

His gaze turns to me and he pauses. Carefully, I control my features, trying to project the same feeling of emptiness I had seen from the other captives, though my heart races and I'm breaking out in a cold sweat. Look away, look away, please look away….

Something must show though, because he narrows his black eyes and leans closer. Heart pounding, I'm just about to lose my cool when a loud explosion of sound snaps his head around to the forest in front of us. Heavy metal clanking reaches my ear first, and then a large form bursts from the trees in an abundance of gunmetal grey and I am absolutely shocked to see–in a flash of insane unreality–the same man in the suit of armor that I thought had been stalking Edward at the very beginning of this whole mess.

"GET AWAY FROM MY BROTHER!" A young sounding voice filters out of the metal like an echoing screech as the man pounds closer with loud clanks.

For a few seconds, the general, thugs, and myself stare at the running man in identical expressions of shock–but then all hell breaks loose.

A shout of "OPEN FIRE" comes from the forest behind the armored man, and a split second later Edward and I are released as the general Viktor stands with a curse, drawing his own gun as fast as lightning.

I grab Edward's still comatose arm and slam both our bodies to the ground as ear shattering cracks of gunfire begin to rain down around us. I shout in fear, eyes clenched tightly shut, as one of my worst nightmares begins to unfold.

The sounds of screaming men and guns going off block out all else, sending such adrenaline through me that it's difficult to even open my eyes. Somehow I manage, and, through the shroud of kicked up dust, find myself staring straight into Edward's. My gut clenches painfully as I see them for the first time. His face is slack, as if he has not even an inkling of what is going on around him. His golden irises are almostly completely consumed by his pupils, blank and unresponsive. "Edward!" I shout at him desperately after a moment of shock. "Eddie, come on!" I can do nothing to rouse him. With a curse I look around desperately.

Our captives have scattered, some going down in a hail of bullets, killed instantly, and others returning fire, even as they knew there would be no cover. I could see the opposition now, a line of at least twenty bluecoats just behind the tree cover. Edward's friends had come for him. The suit of armor is currently being held back by a rain of machine gun fire, but his advance is unstoppable in our direction, much to the fury of the still standing general above us. I wonder at how he is still standing, but then I realize that the soldiers are avoiding shooting in our direction, probably in case they accidentally hit Edward.

" _ Break the circle!" _ An insistent voice slams into my head like a migraine and I groan, grimacing at the sudden wave of dizziness. Right. Break the circle. The general is distracted, the men are falling like flies. Now is my chance. I glance at Edward one last time and give his arm a squeeze–a promise that I would come back for him–and then release it, looking around swiftly through cringing eyes and earth shattering fear. I spot a line of scorched earth several yards away and immediately begin crawling towards it, scrabbling for something, anything, I can use to disrupt the pattern. I would need something heavy, because not even the pounding of footsteps seemed to do the scorched lines any harm. I reach the line empty handed a moment later, and groan in dismay. Not only are the lines burnt into the ground, but they have created an indention several inches deep. I run a hand over the burn, finding it hard as rock.

Oh God, I can't do this, I can't do this–I dig my fingers into the earth as hard as I can, but bloodied nails are my only reward. Amidst the gunfire and the frantic shouts of dying men my eyes burn with useless, angry tears. I cringe badly as a gunshot ricochets off of the compacted earth right next to my hand. What's the point of releasing me if I'm still powerless…?!

" _ Of all the useless…!"  _ The voice whispers through my head once again, accompanied by an annoyed sigh. And then, like a flash of neon light through the darkness, an image appears before my shut eyes, a circle I had never seen before. I flinch and my eyes snap open, but not before I have an image of Edward clapping his hands together in a burst of white light. I shake my head, dizzy and confused, and look down at my own hands. No….it couldn't be.

Suddenly the world falls into deafening silence.

I reel as the gunfire stops, and afraid of what I'll find, I slowly turn back the way I had come.

My heart plummets through the earth. There are only three men left standing in the middle of the circle. One is the man in armor. He stands still, hand reached out desperately in front of him, glowing red eyes fixed, frozen, on the scene a few paces away. The other is Edward, standing on his own, somehow, but his features are still completely blank, staring into that of his–friend? Brother?–without seeing him. And finally, the insane man who orchestrated this entire bloody mess, Viktor, standing just behind Edward with a rifle pressed to his back. Across the field of the remains of the man's thugs, the bluecoats are just as frozen, grim sets to every jaw and guns pointed impotently forward, and one black haired man with glasses holding a hand up to halt them. And then there is me, lying on the ground, alone and ignored, unable to do a  _ damn thing _ as this insane drama plays out.

General Viktor opens his mouth, and a deep, dark chuckle breaks the tension like a knife. It turns into an uproarious laugh as he bares his teeth at the impotent men before him. "You people are all the same! Can you not see? You are all worthless! What is the death of one more?" His laughs consume him, echoing off the canyon menacingly as all everyone can do is grind their teeth in anger. "This is why you are weak. This is why you must be destroyed!" He fixes his insane eyes onto the back of Edward's head. "Kill them, Fullmetal Alchemist! Kill them all with your own hands!"

My eyes widen in alarm as Edward, completely unresponsive up to this point, slowly lifts his hands as if to bring them together in prayer.

"Brother," the man in armor whispers in that impossibly young voice of his as Edward's blank gaze fixes on him, and the general's grin widens into demented glee as the alchemist begins to follow his orders, rifle still pointed unerringly at the base of Edward's spine.

No one is moving. They weren't going to do anything, couldn't, as Edward's hands inched closer and closer together.

Pressure begins building within me as I watch the scene, the image from before pulsing insistently in my mind, shattering my concentration. And then suddenly, I know what I have to do.

"NO!" I shout, bringing every set of eyes, including Edward's, to myself.

"What–" the general begins in shock, wiping the smile from his features as if slapped in the face.

With all of my strength, I slam my hands together, and to my utter surprise, energy seems to surge from me in a painful crackle of lightning, burning out of my core and through my hands, doubtless leaving scorch marks in its wake. There is shouting around me, but I only glare at the general with all of the absolute hatred I have at my disposal, and give him a triumphant grin. As if in slow motion, understanding seems to dawn on his face, and he bares his teeth at me in sudden fury, swinging his gun around to point at me. But he is too late.

With the transmutation circle burning behind my eyes, I slam my hands against the earth over the evil engraved lines that have caused so much grief, so much pain, and watch with utter satisfaction as a large portion of the line beneath my fingers is obliterated in a mass crumbling of the earth.

The next few moments would be the longest, and probably most traumatizing, of my life.

Several things happen in quick succession.

One: after watching the ground shatter beneath me, I lock eyes with Edward, and with a surge of absolute pleasure, I can feel the collar around my neck shatter and fall into dust, just as I watch the same happen to my friend. He gasps, and his golden eyes widen even as his pupils return to normal, focused once more.

Two: the general finishes bringing his rifle around with a strangled cry of fury and fear, and he pulls the trigger with an earth shattering boom. I jerk back, feeling as though someone has shoved me in the shoulder, hard. Edward screams my name, and for a second I am distracted by how good it is to see him aware again, before I tear my eyes from him and look down at the splash of red over my chest uncomprehendingly.

Three: I hear an evil, cackling laugh inside my head–that same strange voice of one and many–and then the circle, which I swear I've just destroyed, activates one more time.

It's different than the last time though. This time, instead of a blood red light, there is purple and gold swirling together in a sick and dizzying dance. A black substance begins to seep from the lines, only to disperse in the air above. I look around frantically, trying to spot Edward through the mayhem, suddenly very afraid for him. The demon I met earlier said he would only take the general, but I'm not about to trust his word at face value. I spot Ed a split second later. He looks like he is about to run towards me, his pupils only a pinprick of black now, but the suit of armor grabs him by the coat and jerks him back, bodily lifting him and sprinting desperately towards the edge of the circle where the blue clad soldiers wait. I can hear him screaming, but I sigh in relief as he is taken from my sight. Sorry Eddie, I would follow, but I can't...move...

A terrified shout draws my tired gaze back to the general, who hasn't moved from his spot. He's spinning, looking frantically around at the sky and shouting in his own language. I can't tell what he says, but it sounds like he is pleading with something. Long, spindly black...somethings crawl from the ground towards him, consuming every corpse in their wake, the bodies disintegrating into nothingness at their touch, and Viktor begins firing his rifle haphazardly. But the small hands, I could see now, are not deterred. He's shouting desperately, but there is no answer. 

Power surges around us and the ground shudders and opens beneath his feet. My breath hitches as I recognize a huge...eye beneath him, and the spindly arms seem to surge and wrap around him like all consuming ropes, shrouding him in darkness. His eyes lock onto mine at the very last second, and I can't resist a small satisfied smile, even as I am gripped by the horror of what I am witnessing. He is gone a split second later with an agonized scream, his body disintegrated and sucked into the eye beneath him.

Suddenly, he is gone, and I am the only one left in the circle. I'm not sure what I expect–the energy to disperse, or something–but it is not what happens next. The arms, having consumed all in their path, begin to creep towards the only living thing left in their reach. Me. A thrill of fear pulses through my paralyzed limbs as the great eye turns in my direction. I can only make a strangled moan as the creep ever closer, too weak at this point to even move.

But something stops them in their tracks, and I gape as they withdraw slightly, like shadows cringing away from the light. Before I can breathe a sigh of relief, however, a figure begins to materialize before me, and I recognize the form of the creature I had met in the white world. 

" _ Well, that didn't go quite the way I expected,"  _ he says in his strange voice.

A wet laugh of disbelief gurgles from my over abused throat at that insane understatement, though I feel no real amusement. The demon tilts its head to the side, examining me. " _ You look close to death...still, a contract is a contract. Time to pay your price." _

I look at the beast incredulously. Haven't I paid enough?

Apparently not. A wide grin appears from nothing as the creature crouches before me. Almost gently, he grabs my right arm, and I blink in sudden comprehending horror. " _This…"_ he says, and a sharp, tearing tug forces and startled, anguished scream from my throat. Through my cries, he finishes his statement with a smug flourish. " _...is_ **_mine_** _."_

The energy disperses in a violent wind, the only proof that it was ever there at all the lingering laughter echoing in my mind, and my own fading cries. I fall silent, numb. I'm staring into the sky, grey as it had been for days, completely untouched by the drama below. It is so silent, so quiet after all of the noise and fear that had been the last few hours, that for a moment in my numbness, I allowed myself to believe that it is over, that I'm okay, and that Eddie and I could go home.

But with the fading of the adrenaline comes the pain. It starts like the spreading of wildfire from my shoulder, and deep shudders wrack my body as it spreads to my arm. I don't look down, can't look down, for fear of what I would see. Wet stickiness covers me, I can feel it through my meagre clothes, and I try to concentrate on something else, anything else, than the pain. I was never meant for this, literally can't handle or comprehend this. I was meant to stay at home, protect my sister, and help my ma' around the house. I was meant to follow my father's footsteps and become a working man. I was meant for a normal life, not...this. Not suicide rescue missions and pacts with devils and magic and world ending pain. Never this...

The pain builds, is becoming unbearable, and then I can hear the pounding of footsteps coming towards me, someone screaming my name. Gold consumes my vision, the only color against the grey sky, and the shouting becomes insistent.

"–an! HAN!"

"Eddie…" I whisper, trying to get the sight of his eyes to focus. They are wide and afraid, brimmed with unshed tears, as if he has just watched his worst nightmare come to life. And maybe he has. 

"You idiot!" He shrugs off his jacket and begins fumbling with it, trying to turn it into some kind of compress. Shouts and the color blue dance at my peripherals, but I ignore them, trying to force words past my numbed limbs.

"Eddie...hurts…"

"I know, I know, shut up, dammit! Don't talk…! ...be fine…" His voice, tinged with desperation, fades out.

My vision swims, and I feel myself falling. The last thing I think before the darkness claims me is that the demon took my drawing hand. Bastard.

-o0o-

Somewhere, in all consuming whiteness, a cackle filters through the air without an echo. A large gate shuts with an inaudible boom, and it locks with a sharp click before fading from sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dramatic ending! Hope you guys have enjoyed this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. One more chapter to go!
> 
> Next chapter: worth it.


	11. Worth It

Usually after a traumatic experience in stories–you know, the ones at the very end at the final battle– the hero wakes slowly. He's disoriented and confused, but comfortable and safe. Sometimes, he has this blissful moment where he has no idea what has happened or how much time has passed, and for maybe just a little moment, thinks everything is fine and dandy. Then he opens his eyes, and finds a loved one crying over his recovering form in some hospital, regaling him with all of the danger and heroics he was forced to do to save the day, oh so very happy that he is alive and safe and all is well. The point is, the author of these tales usually skips over the traumatic bits and straight to the end, where the plot is resolved.

My author must be a sick piece of work because that...isn't what happens to me. No, it's much more inglorious than that, because seconds after I pass out in Edward's arms, the bastard slaps me in the face and demands I stay awake. With his  _ automail _ hand. Any warm fuzzy feelings I have for the boy are thrown out the window as I curse his very existence. "Yeah, yeah, you'll kill me, I'm a bastard, stay awake, dammit! Hughes–"

I'm fading in and out of consciousness, wanting nothing more than to sink into the comforting blackness and stay there where the world could no longer reach me. After all of the pain and fear I had been through the last couple of days, I just want to be safe. At peace. Sadly, it isn't to be, as my new friend keeps pulling me back, holding on tenaciously to my soul no matter how much I wish he wouldn't. Shouting clammers at my ears, but I can make out no words or anything resembling sense. As my vision flickers I am assaulted with alternating colors of gold and blue, but I can only process numbness as I no doubt go into shock.

"–can't move him...too much blood–"

"...field medic. I have an alchemist–"

A male voice shouts loudly over the din, commanding silence, but it doesn't get any quieter, at least not for me. There is a rushing sound in my ears, so loud it drowns out all else. I begin to fade again, but a sharp shake of my uninjured shoulder brings my eyes to half mast with a groan. I send a disgruntled look to the one holding me, only to blurrily make out golden irises practically in my face. I mumble inaudibly, trying to tell him to leave me alone, that I'm tired, but he doesn't pull away. Edward's mouth is moving rapidly, but I can't hear him.

I fade out from reality, visions of my home and life drifting before my eyes against the gray sky. My sister and mother's faces, pictures of my father, my loft and drawings, all jumble in front of me in a scattered mess. It isn't a dramatic replay of my life by any means...just comforting memories…I relax completely, as if slipping into a warm bath. There is another sharp shake, but I ignore it.

I want to sleep, and I really try, but there is a tingling at my right side, a pressure. At first I try to dismiss it, even going so far as to lift my left hand to push the pressure away, but the clumsy swipe is caught and gently pinned to the ground with trembling fingers. The pressure increases and my brow furrows in distress as I struggle to release myself, blurrily realizing that I can't move. Something is holding me down. I attempt to open my heavy lids, finally noticing that something is not right, when the pressure suddenly becomes agony.

I jerk awake with a strangled gasp. "Ugh–hah! G-get off! Stop!" My vision clears with a violent stab of adrenaline as I finally regain consciousness and my heart kickstarts once more, fluttering frantically like a bird in a too small cage. Suddenly I am extremely claustrophobic as I realize I'm pinned to the ground by several men. The pressure intensifies once more and I let out a strangled scream.

My body convulses as I stutter in confusion and fear, but a voice intrudes on my consciousness, steady and constant. I try to look to my right to see what horrible creature is ripping me apart, but a gentle, frigid hand pulls my gaze towards a filthy tearstained face, and Edward's words finally reach me.

"–listen to me, Han. Shhh, it will be over soon, I promise you'll be okay, I promise, just stay with me–" His voice cracks as I listen through my own ragged breathing. My eyes drift lower to his neck, and I cringe at the mess his flesh is. A long gaping wound, bleeding sluggishly–but not life threateningly–surrounds its circumference, dangerously close to his pulse point.

"Eddie…" I stutter weakly, momentarily forgetting my own pain. I try to lift my left hand to –well, I'm not really sure–only to realize that Edward is clutching it tightly with his own warm one.

The blonde chuckles wetly in disbelief when he realizes what has distracted me, and shakes his head, a few more tears escaping. "Don't worry about me, you idiot. Your neck is just as bad."

I let out a shuddering laugh and a long groan, willing myself to think past the sluggish pain. "N-now we match–Uhn…"

I meant it as a joke, but Edward flinches badly at my statement, eyes flickering over to my right side, where the hot stabs of pain and numbness alternate in blistering waves. My heart skips a beat, jaw falling open in horrible revelation as the last few hours come back to me. I try to jerk my head to see, but Edward's cold metal hand holds me in place, gently but firmly.

"Eddie…" I gasp, feeling panic creep up within me, despite my deep and utter exhaustion. Belatedly, I realize that my side is going completely numb, that I'm being drugged with some sort of morphine.

"Shhh, calm down," he sooths, but he seems to be communicating silently with someone over my head.

"Edward, what are they doing…" my words are becoming slurred. "Ed–" I bite my tongue and am forced to stop. There is a bright flash of light, and suddenly I am blinded. I jump badly. Unconsciously, I struggle, trying to force my way up while strong hands keep me pinned. My mind is telling me to run, run,  _ run _ , but Edward's soothing baritone keeps me grounded, even if I can barely understand what he is saying.

"Han, calm down, they just regenerated some blood for you. Just stay awake, it's alright–"

"Eddie–" I choke. "My arm–" I try to jerk my head to my completely numb right side, but he holds me still once more, forcing me to look in his eyes.

"Don't look," Edward says, impossibly gently, though his voice wavers lowly. He opens his mouth, closes it, then tries again. "Han...It's gone. From the elbow down. I need you to hold still while they–" he swallows hard. "The bullet tore through your shoulder joint. They have to–"

I closed my eyes, blocking him out. My head is clearing and I'm breathing easier. Blood regeneration, he said. Right now, I really, really wish they had waited for me to pass out to do all this. Why, why couldn't I be one of those heroes that woke up in the hospital after all of this shit is over with!?

Oh yeah. Because ever since I laid my eyes on a certain blonde, I haven't had that kind of luck.

"Han…? Han!"

"Shut up," I snap, glaring, though I'm not sure how powerful it is as I still can't quite open my eyelids all the way. Seems to rattle Edward though, because he flinches. Vaguely, I realize my tongue has gone numb. A tug at my side causes my stomach to roil and I clench my teeth with an involuntary moan.

The next time I open my eyes, Edward's face is completely white as he stares at the ground, avoiding looking at anything and everything. "I'm sorry," he chokes out, finally seeming to lose his cool. His shoulders slump and he tightens his grip in my hand as if he is the one who is being mutilated and not the other way around. "I–this is my fault, I'm so sorr–"

"Though' I tol' you to shut up–" I bite my tongue again, inwardly cursing. Harder than I thought to talk while drugged. Still, his words wring a molten pool of anger in my lower gut, causing my eyes to sting. Another tug pulls my vision, but I do my best to ignore it while I hold onto my anger like a lifeline.

"D-don't you dare–" I cut myself off as Edward looks up at me, a face more haunted than I have ever seen on any man. He looks like a wounded animal, and his gaze seems to fade in and out of reality as if reliving some horrible memory. Cold metal bites into the skin on my cheek where he continues to hold me in place, and I realize with startling clarity that he has gone through this before.

Only last time, it was him on the operating table.

He looks so fragile, like my next word will break him. And it's so strange and unsettling, because this is a kid with god-like powers, one who commands the natural world with his whims, but right now….right now he is just a scared child. Just like me.

My anger fades, and I can't feel anything but sad and so very, very tired. I let the dark feelings go with a gently released breath. And smile. Edward's breath hitches, but I cut off anything he might say. "Did we...did we save them?"

"I...yeah, we did.  _ You _ did."

I shake my head. That's silly. All I did was bumble around. "Are you okay?" I ask breathily.

A tremulous smile pulls at his lips. "Yes, Han. You broke the circle. I'm free."

"Am I going to live?" A firm nod and a determined frown are my answer.

"Then–" Another tug puts me off, and I let out a weak cough. Edward bites his lip and looks over my head. I clasp his hand tightly, bringing his eyes back to mine. "Then it’s okay."

The blonde shakes his head slowly as if in denial, a few more tears escaping. "But–"

" _ It was worth it _ ." I pull my hand from his weak grasp and poke the stunned blonde in the forehead, like I do when my little sister is being a pain. I grimace when I notice I left a red mark where I touched. "Besides…" I mumble, swiftly losing the last of my strength, "this just gives me...the chance to meet that hot girlfriend of...yours…" I hear a weak chuckle, and I attempt to smile.

"Fullmetal, sir," A voice outside of my vision pulls the alchemist's attention from me. "We are ready." Edward's thin lips set in a grim line, and he gives a nod.

"I need you to hold onto me, Han," he says, seeming to regain his equilibrium from my words even as my heart fills with dread.

"Just do it," I mumble, teeth setting and eyes slipping shut. A firm squeeze of my hand is my only reassurance before another bright flash of light consumes me.

A few seconds later and it's over. I breath out a strangled breath, spots dancing in front of my eyes as I try desperately to bring Edward's face into focus. He's deathly pale, as if our positions are reversed. I squeeze his shaking hand and he grasps me desperately back, keeping me grounded. Tears fall down my face freely, even as I try to smile for him. Oh god, it's gone. My arm is gone. That which is most important to me,  _ my dream _ , is gone. I might not be able to feel the pain right now, but the agony of my soul is more than enough to compensate.

But as I look up into Edward's grimacing face, so strained with worry and grief and his throat no doubt permanently scarred from that bastard's abuse, I can't help but think I have gained something– _ saved _ something–infinitely more precious.

"W-well…" I mumble, words stumbling in an attempt to soothe him, "that washn't–so...bad…"

"You idiot," Edward shouts, "Don't speak!" Suddenly my heart lurches painfully in my chest and my body jerks, eyes shuttering. "Han? Han!"

"Shit! Get back–Going into shock–"

"Han! Get off me, dammit! Ha–"

"Brother, calm down! Let them–"

A pressure pushes a staccato against my chest once, twice, and then I finally,  _ blessedly _ , feel the darkness pull me into its gentle embrace, Edward's voice the last thing I hear.

-o0o-

This time, I actually wake like the stories say I should: in a hospital. I'm heavily medicated, but safe and warm. See, was that so hard?

Steady beeping makes its way slowly into my awareness, and the sterility of cleaning solution stings my nose. For one long moment, I refuse to open my eyes to face reality. It really isn't somewhere I want to be at the moment, not after immediately remembering my 'field operation' that I was unfortunately awake for. I must have been out for a long while, since I remember nothing of the trip back. What finally opens my eyes, though, is the memory of that strange demon grinning at me, and they snap open, grimace pulling at my mouth as I try to vanish that loathsome image. I couldn't decide at this moment whether that creature was better or worse than that Viktor guy. It's up in the air at this point, though I guess he did get the job done, for what that's worth.

I stare at the white ceiling for several moments, forcing myself to breathe slowly. In and out. In and out. I can't feel any pain, no doubt heavily drugged as I am, but that illusion of comfort is easily shattered: I only have to look down. Luckily, a noise to my left distracts me, and I turn slowly, vision swimming slightly.

The task is harder than I thought it would be, as my neck seems to be completely immobilized by bandages. I let out a sharp hiss as the skin beneath pulls, reminding me that my arm wasn't the only thing to be injured. A strange clanking and a young voice startles me.

"You're awake!" The voice is kind, sweet even, and it drips with relief, as if this stranger is genuinely glad. I force open my heavy lids and turn carefully this time to regard my visitor.

I gasp, adrenaline kickstarting my heart. It's him! The man in the armor! My body tenses, until a sharp throb of pain forces me to relax. Still I eye him warily, even as he seems to shrink back on himself, abashed.

"Oh, don't be frightened," and my eyes widen in complete bafflement as the child's voice, which can't be older than ten, comes from the large man. "My name is Alphonse." As I don't react, 'Alphonse' shifts uncomfortably, shoulders hunched as if trying to make himself smaller. "Um, how are you feeling," he says awkwardly.

I gape, completely confused. Alphonse; as in, Eddie's little brother Alphonse who looks kind of like me? Or, well,  _ looked  _ apparently, I think, remembering Edward's accidental distinction. But still, my drugged mind can't seem to buck up enough to actually make what I'm hearing make actual  _ sense _ .

Well...well. I had known that this whole kidnapping debacle was my fault, but now that I know who this supposed stalker is, I can't help but groan at the absolute stupidity that seems to be my life as of late.

At my pained groan, Alphonse leans forward and lifts his hands, leaving them to hover uselessly. "Um, should I take that as a 'bad'? Should I call the doctor, or–"

"No, no," I mumble, giving him an ironic smile even as tears sting at my eyes. "I'm alright, I just...It's just stupid, you know?"

"Er, right."

An awkward silence settles between us, only broken by the beeping of my heart monitor. Alphonse keeps shifting his strange red gaze between my blank expression and the door, as if seriously contemplating getting the doctor despite my reassurances. I still don't look down at my side. To distract myself, I say the first thing that comes to mind.

"So, Alphonse...can I call you Al? You seem like an Al…"

"Heh, of course," the boy in the armor giggled. "Anyone who is a friend of my brother is a friend of mine."

"I–" I smile in spite of myself. "Heh, that's funny. I remember saying much the same thing. Makes me wish sometimes that my name was longer, so I could say 'my friends call me…'"

This brings a genuine laugh out of the boy, and I can't help but grin in response. It slowly slides off my face a second later and the mood sobers as Al notices. "Al...how–" I wanted to ask 'how bad is it' but I still can't bring myself to face it just yet. "What happened after I passed out?" I ask instead.

A hefty sigh fills the room. I squint. It sounds odd and metallicy, but a second later I brush it off as having never heard someone talk through metal before. Seriously, how big  _ is _ this kid–

Alphonse's voice brushes aside my errant thoughts. "After you...erm...passed out," he pauses, as if that isn't quite an accurate description. I wrack my brain, but can't really remember my last moments. "We placed you and the other injured in cars and sent you back to Central."

"But what about the circle? The other alchemists?" I grimace as my words slur. "Are they okay? Did any of them–" Alphonse puts a large hand over my mouth to stem the constant flow of questions, and I wrinkle my nose at the smell of old leather.

"Ah, sorry," he apologizes, quickly taking his hand back. I can almost see his embarrassed expression at being so forward with a stranger. I can't help but find him charming. I lift my left hand and mime zipping my lips shut, looking at him expectantly, and he relaxes. "Heh, one question at time. The circle was completely destroyed after investigations scoured the camp and took evidence. The other alchemists that had been experimented on are safe and on the mend. They only have wounds on their necks where the 'collars' were embedded. Eh–" He scratches the back of his head, and I can't help but think the gesture strange, as there is no way he could feel it through the metal. "I'm sorry to say that–that is the doctor says...says it will scar. There's nothing they can do…"

I wave my hand lazily, brushing it off. "No worries...battle scars, you know? Makes me look manly. Besides, it's nothing compared to...to…" My arm goes limp as my eyes squeeze shut. And it's so strange, because it feels like it's still there, like I can just lift it and–but there's nothing. No response. A single tear slides down my face. It was worth it. I bite my lip, tasting a sharp tang of blood. It was worth it...

"Han...I wanted to thank you." There is such warmth in Alphonse's voice that I am pulled out from my grief to regard him. "You saved him," he says softly. "You saved my brother. He's my everything, and you made sure he made it home."

I'm already shaking my head as he finishes, frown tugging at the memory of Edward's blank eyes as he was controlled. The way he almost attacked his own brother, who he clearly loves with all his heart. How I was used against him. He had been trapped because of  _ me _ .

"You're wrong," I whisper. "I only dragged him down. If I hadn't been there, none of this would have happened."

"He told me everything–" Alphonse started, but I cut him off.

"Then you know how I messed up, how I held him back." I shut my eyes against his intense stare, my voice rising until it was choked off by the lump in my throat. "I'm just an idiot who can't even kill a rabbit, much less save anyone! I lured him away from his protection and got him kidnapped and then at that damned valley I got myself caught and he sacrificed himself to save my pathetic life–" The hand was firmly over my mouth once more, cutting off my words.

"You saved him," Alphonse said with such quiet conviction my breath stuttered in my chest. "You saw my brother in danger and you tried to protect him," I scoffed, but the boy would not let me interrupt. "You called him friend even though you were scared and hurt and you made him  _ laugh _ . You prevented him from jumping into a suicide mission, made sure he didn't kill himself, stuck with him even though you wanted to turn back, and then," he paused, as if trying to  _ make _ me accept his words. "You sacrificed everything so that he could come home to me. In short," he tilts his head, "I couldn't have done better myself."

Tears flow freely from my eyes now, but it isn't in grief this time. To hear that from Eddie's little brother...maybe, just maybe, I could believe that. I slowly nod and gesture at the hand still trapping my mouth. I quickly swipe at my eyes as I am released, and smile. "Careful, Ally-boy," I joke wetly, "I'll think you're about to confess your undying love for me."

"Heh, I think I'll leave that to brother. He hasn't left your side in days, even though Colonel Mustang has been breathing down his neck."

Alphonse gestures to my right side and I grimace, slowly bringing my neck back straight even as the stitches around my neck pull sharply. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, with a reminder to myself to be brave. Then I look down.

I can't help the slight whimper of distress that curdles in the back of my throat as I finally lay eyes on the proof of what happened to me. White bandages, thankfully unstained, cover my entire right shoulder and chest. I'm glad I can feel no pain, at least not physically, because my mental anguish is quite enough. There's nothing there. NOTHING. Truth, the bastard, had only taken my arm from the elbow down, but Viktor's bullet through my shoulder joint made sure I lost the rest of it. My shoulder is all that is left. Panic wells up within me as my brain sends me conflicting signals, quickening my breath as I can feel the phantom of my limb but can see that it isn't there. I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to take a deep breath. Calm down. You can do this. You already knew it was gone.

I already knew my arm was gone, along with any dream I might of had of becoming an artist. And with that...well, I don't think I know who I am anymore. I can hear Al clanking behind me, but he seems to settle back to give me a moment, for which I'm extremely grateful. I force myself to breath. In and out. In and out.

A small intake of breath outside of my own causes me to open my eyes once more, looking beyond myself to the swath of red and gold resting in the chair next to my bed. Eddie sleeps soundly–if not extremely uncomfortable, I think with some amusement–with his chin resting on his chest and his arms crossed, slumped so far he seems to be holding onto his seat by a precarious force of will. His golden hair hangs loosely and tangled around his face, as if he hasn't showered in days. I snort in amusement despite my grim situation. "Oh, I doubt that," I say, continuing our previous conversation. "I distinctly remember hearing of a well endowed mechanic while he was moaning in his sleep." Still, I can't help but feel genuine gratitude that he has stuck by my side, despite everything I have put him though. This time, I can think of it with conviction. It was worth it. I might not ever be the same, but I'll recover. And if Eddie's stubbornness is anything to go by, I won't have to do it on my own.

Alphonse's laugh turns my smile genuine and I feel my heart ease somewhat at the happy sound. At least I still have my ability to make people laugh. Small miracles.

The sound seems to rouse Edward, and I wonder idly how he sat there sleeping through our entire conversation. I'm pretty sure I was shouting at some point. Then again, he could sleep like the dead pretty much through anything, including in places like the forest, the edges of cliffs, kidnapper's trunks, and apparently, through extremely uncomfortable conversations. I grin as he rubs his eyes and grumbles. "Al, what time is it...urgh, my neck…"

"Hey, Eddie," I say, and he startles, eyes snapping to mine. A tense moment of silence passes as he scans my face, looking for...something. Accusation probably. Well, he wasn't going to find it. Not from me. "How you doing, buddy?"

He seems to choke, but before he can say anything, I lift my hand, forestalling any apologies he may have. "It's okay. I'm okay," I say, and I really do mean it. I'll be okay.

I can see in his eyes that doesn't believe me, but he doesn't argue the point. And even if I might make peace with what happened, he may never. It's just the kind of guy he is. Heroes, what can you do? I chuckle.

"How can you–" he starts, before shaking his head with a rueful smile. "You really are amazing, you know that?" A blush heats my cheeks, but this time he's the one to cut off my protest. "Don't even. Just take the damn compliment."

I grumble, but concede, beet red as he laughs at my expense. "You just wait, as soon as I'm better, you are so going to get it." His smile drops as he pales slightly, and he steps in close, placing a hand on my good shoulder. I look up at him, brow furrowed in confusion as the intensity I so admired–let's face it, still admire–focuses on my being in all of it's entirety, as if he's looking at the most fascinating gem, or a puzzle he just can't figure out.

"I'm going to make this right, Han. You are going to be whole again. I promise."

I blink, a bit taken aback, not quite sure what he means. But for now, I smile warmly, despite my confusion. "You don't have to, Eddie. Your friendship is enough. But–" I say quickly as his expression darkens in determination and some emotion I can't quite place, "thank you. It means a lot." I clap my remaining hand on his shoulder as well and glance between the two brothers. "As soon as I'm out of here, you guys have to hang out with me! We can even go–" and here I shudder, "camping." Edward's expression clears and he lets out a surprised laugh.

"Sure, Han. You got it."

-o0o-

The next few days were a flurry of doctors and prodding and crying family members. But I couldn't help but smile the whole time despite my exhaustion and my loss, because I did it. I made it home, and made sure that the remaining alchemists made it home as well. They would return to their families and lives, and that meant just a few less children and spouses would go through what my family did. Not only that, but I forged a friendship with two boys who, even if I didn't know it at the time, would define and shape me in ways I would never have known if I had never stepped out my door that morning.

If I had never left my home to reach out to a passing stranger.

_ FIN _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed. The sequel is coming up soon, and I expect it to be at least as long as this one... but who knows. Considering how far from cannon this will probably turn out to be, it means I have absolutely no idea where it goes from here other than a few vague interesting ideas. If anyone has something specific in mind that would be cool to see, drop me a line. I could always use the inspiration. Anyway, thanks for stopping by and giving my story a chance. See you next time!


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